Relativity
by Pikkadylli
Summary: The Grays have several new arrivals at Covington Cross one is there for love, one is there for money and the third is there to get herself a new husband...Sir Thomas. Rated for suggestive themes and one slightly graphic scene. Read & review, please!


_DISCLAIMER: The following is a fanfic—that is to say, fan fiction...an original work using established characters and settings that are not my intellectual property—in this case, a short-lived but well-loved TV series called Covington Cross. I am not getting paid or compensated for this work...it is merely a story written by me, a fan, and created for the enjoyment of myself and other like-minded fans. Please ask if you wish to archive the work._

EPISODE 1: **RELATIVITY** by Pykkadilly

CHAPTER ONE – _**Two Skews and a View**_

**IT WAS A** noble's carriage that traveled quickly down the well-worn road between London and Covington Cross. The lone pedestrian hastily moved to one side as the conveyance, along with its two out-riders, trundled along past. He stopped in mid-stride, awestruck by the beauty of the female galloping by on the vehicle's right, near to swooning over the flaming silken waves of hair fluttering behind her. Meanwhile, the passenger of the vehicle engaged the riders in a conversation that was yelled over the sound of travel.

"I want to thank you two for escorting me to Covington Cross," Lady Elizabeth told the siblings flanking her carriage as they hastened from London to the castle the lady had just mentioned. "I appreciate the presence of the Gray family's best warrior…and her brother." Cedric Gray giggled.

"It's our pleasure," he said gallantly, trying to project the air of a man of the world for all that he hadn't yet reached his eighteenth year of age—though the attempt brought nothing but humor to the ladies with him.

"It's our self-preservation, you mean," his sister Eleanor corrected him with a twinkle in her eye. "Father's been an absolute bear these past two weeks...he's been roaring about the castle snapping at anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path."

"I was gone for but one month to visit my cousin!" Lady Elizabeth protested. "He couldn't last the final two weeks?" She laughed.

"Truth be told, m'lady," Cedric confessed, "Father started getting surly the very day you left—it's just been extremely hard to handle these past two weeks." The lady in the carriage laughed.

"It's good thing all our horses are fresh, then," Lady Elizabeth said with a smile. "All the quicker to get to Covington Cross and rescue everyone from that growling bear! Though I daresay that, were it a real bear, Eleanor could slay it bare-handed!" The Grays laughed. The driver of the carriage, however, pulled on the reins. Cedric and Eleanor pulled their mounts to a stop as well.

"Whoa, there!" he called. "Tree's fell across the road." The siblings exchanged glances and dismounted.

"Odd..." Eleanor mused, "...the road was fine on the way to London...I don't recall seeing any trees that looked hazardous then."

"Sometimes the rotten ones look fine until they fall over. Let's just get the tree out of the way..." Cedric suggested, walking over to it. "Come, Eleanor—the tree is far too heavy for us mere men to move…we need your feminine strength!" Eleanor joined him, as did the carriage driver. Even as they all took hold of the fallen trunk, however, there was a voice that called out:

"Don't make a move fer yer weapons." They were suddenly surrounded by several coarse-looking individuals, armed with a variety of swords, knives and staves. "All's we want is yer valuables. Then we'll be off." Cedric squealed in fright; he and Dabney the driver clutched each other in terror before the youngest Gray sibling fumbled for his sword. Eleanor hissed at him:

_"Don't_—we're nowhere near Lady Elizabeth." Cedric glanced over at the carriage and glumly noted that Eleanor absolutely correct (as usual): there were about a dozen and a half of the bandits, and Eleanor could easily fight them off...but Lady Elizabeth was in her carriage a good twenty-five feet or so away, and over half the brigands were between Eleanor and the carriage. Starting a fight now could likely get the lady injured...or, worse, taken hostage.

"I've a personal chest in my carriage," Lady Elizabeth whimpered. "You may take it and go." The speaker grinned, showing missing teeth.

"Thank 'ee, m'lady," he acknowledged, then gestured roughly to a colleague of his. The second man—a bearded fellow with brown hair—turned and moved closer to the carriage, while the speaker and five others held their weapons at the ready, eying Cedric, the driver and Eleanor.

"Give it over!" he ordered Lady Elizabeth, holding his hands up in anticipation. Just then there was another arrival. Eleanor recognized the pedestrian they had passed on the road earlier: he was a yeoman by appearance, wearing rough but clean clothing on his lean, wiry frame. His raven hair was slightly wavy and fell in a simple cut to the tops of his shoulders. His face was plain, lacking a square jaw or any like features that her brothers had, but his clear green eyes were certainly sharp and intelligent as they glanced around the scene before him. He wore a pack on his back and carried a long staff that he was using as a walking stick.

He stopped about five feet away from the thug who was waiting for Lady Catherine to hand him her lock box, suddenly realizing that a robbery was taking place. He immediately dropped his staff and held both his hands up.

"Go on about yer business!" snapped the hooded bandit.

"No, wait up there!" Gaptooth countermanded. "This one's got a pack—might be sump'n in it we can use!"

"Oh, please..!" Lady Elizabeth begged. "You're getting my chest—that should be more than enough for you brigands!"

"Don't tell _me_ what's enough, Lady High-N-Mighty!" Gaptooth growled, then gestured to the yeoman. "You best open the pack an' show us yer goods, or we'll just start carving up some noble flesh..." The men closest to Cedric, the driver and Eleanor chortled appreciatively and made a show of their blades. Both Cedric and the driver cowered in fear from the threat, though Eleanor stood firm. She met the gaze of the yeoman's eyes—he wasn't afraid anymore, obviously drawing courage from her very presence. He clearly assessed the sword that Eleanor was wearing, picking up on her subtle signals to create a diversion that the expert swordswoman could use to her advantage. Then the yeoman shrugged off his pack and knelt on the ground to open it up, reaching inside and pulling out something-or, at least, he tried to. Whatever had been in the backpack got caught, so the yeoman was comically trying to pull and pull on something that wouldn't release itself from the bag. He yanked and yanked, until finally the hand suddenly shot out of the pack, spilling out some coins. The sunlight caught on shiny metal coins as they tumbled through the air and fell to the ground. By that time, however, all of the bandits except for Gaptooth and the thug at Lady Catherine's carriage were beaten into submission by Eleanor.

"No, you fools!" roared Gaptooth, who turned to face the flashing blade of the English valkyrie. Her skill inspired both Cedric and Dabney the driver to attempt to resist the robbers; Cedric drew his sword and approached the thug by Lady Elizabeth's carriage, making half-hearted little stabs at the man, who drew his own sword and made to strike the ineffective youth. Dabney jumped onto Gaptooth's back, but was dumped off and received a slice to the arm for his unarmed efforts.

The yeoman grabbed his abandoned staff and used it to strike at the thug at Lady Elizabeth's carriage across the back of his knees, making the robber fall to the ground on his back, although the maneuver also jarred the staff out of the yeoman's hands. Cedric breathed a sigh of relief.

Gaptooth tried to bring his sword around in an arc to slice at the auburn-haired warrior maiden in front of him, but he was literally brought to his knees by her skill and courage.

A pair of knife-wielding ruffians—having screwed up some courage to re-appear in the face of Eleanor's deadly blade—made a cowardly attack on the unarmed yeoman by double-teaming him. The gangly youth fell to the ground in a swoon.

Two things happened: first, Lady Elizabeth—who, apparently, had gotten out of her carriage—lifted up the metal lock box she'd been retrieving for the highwaymen and clouted the knife-wielder closest to her across the back of his head. Down he went, even as Lady Elizabeth shrieked over the fate of one of her fingernails. Second, the remaining knife-wielder was summarily dispatched by Eleanor's deadly blade striking true—

**"OH, FOR THE** love of all that's holy…!" Cedric's positively disgusted voice interrupted his sister and her narrative. "That is NOT how it happened at all!"

"Oh, really?" Eleanor responded jeeringly. "Well, how would _you _say it happened, then, Cedric?" The youngest Gray sibling beckoned to everyone in the Great Hall, and then started his own tale of what had occurred only hours earlier…

IT WAS A noble's carriage that traveled quickly down the well-worn road between London and Covington Cross. The lone pedestrian hastily moved to one side as the conveyance, along with its two out-riders, trundled along past. He stopped, gawking in awe at having lived to see the famous Sir Cedric Gray of Covington Cross gallop by. Meanwhile, the passenger of the vehicle engaged the riders in a conversation that was yelled over the sound of travel.

"I want to thank you two for escorting me to Covington Cross—especially the virile Sir Cedric," Lady Elizabeth told the siblings flanking her carriage as they hastened from London to the castle the lady had just mentioned. Cedric Gray chortled.

"It's our pleasure," he said gallantly, projecting the air of a man of the world for all that he hadn't yet reached his eighteenth year of age. The lady in the carriage felt her heart go a-flutter for being this close to such a manly presence.

"It's our self-preservation, you mean," his sister Eleanor corrected him with a twinkle in her eye. "Father's been an absolute bear these past two weeks...he's been roaring about the castle snapping at anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path."

"I was gone for but one month to visit my cousin!" Lady Elizabeth protested. "He couldn't last the final two weeks?" She laughed.

"Truth be told, m'lady," Cedric confessed, "Father started getting surly the very day you left—it's just been extremely hard to handle these past two weeks…I could have done so with a flick of my manly wrist, but he's my father, and so I must be certain to show forbearance whenever those of his advanced age demonstrate their infirmities." The lady in the carriage laughed.

"It's good thing you're with us, then, my darling Cedric." Lady Elizabeth said with a smile. "All the quicker to get to Covington Cross and show by shining example what a true knight should be!" Cedric smiled modestly as the females simpered. Dabney, the driver of the carriage, however, pulled on the reins.

"Whoa, there!" he called. "Tree's fell across the road." Cedric and Eleanor pulled their mounts to a stop as well. The siblings exchanged glances and dismounted.

"Odd..." Eleanor mused, "...the road was fine on the way to London...I don't recall seeing any trees that looked hazardous then."

"Sometimes the rotten ones look fine until they fall over. Let's just get the tree out of the way." Cedric suggested, walking over to it and seizing it in his manly arms, began to heft the huge old oak out of the way. Eleanor joined him, as did the carriage driver. Even as they did so (far too late to actually have any effect on the tree at all, however), there was a voice that called out:

"Don't make a move fer yer weapons." They were suddenly surrounded by several coarse-looking individuals, armed with a variety of swords, knives and staves. "All's we want is yer valuables. Then we'll be off." Cedric's hand reached for his sword. Eleanor whimpered at him:

_"Don't_—we could never stand against such odds!" The youngest Gray sibling glanced over at the carriage to make note of exactly how many foes he would need to kill in order to save the day. There were a good two dozen men, and although Cedric had no doubt that he could make them all fall to the masculine heft of his unerring blade, he had to conced that Lady Elizabeth was in her carriage a good twenty-five feet or so away, and over half the brigands were between him and her. Starting a fight now could likely get the lady injured...or, worse, taken hostage.

"I've a personal chest in my carriage." Lady Elizabeth said, placing the back of one hand to her forehead and near swooning. "You may take it and go." The speaker grinned, showing missing teeth.

"Thank 'ee, m'lady." he acknowledged, then gestured roughly to a colleague of his. The second man—a bearded fellow with brown hair—turned and moved closer to the carriage, while the speaker and five others held their weapons at the ready, eyeing Cedric, the driver and Eleanor.

"Give it over!" he ordered Lady Elizabeth, holding his hands up in anticipation. Just then there was another arrival. Eleanor recognized the pedestrian they had passed on the road earlier: he was a yeoman by appearance, wearing rough but clean clothing on his lean, wiry frame. His raven hair was slightly wavy and fell in a simple cut to the tops of his shoulders. His face was plain, lacking a square jaw or any like features that her brothers had, but his clear green eyes were certainly sharp and intelligent as they glanced around the scene before him. He wore a pack on his back and carried a long staff that he was using as a walking stick.

He stopped about five feet away from the thug who was waiting for Lady Catherine to hand him her lock box.

"Go on about yer business!" snapped the hooded bandit. The gangly commoner immediately dropped his staff and held his hands up in the air.

"No, wait up there!" Gaptooth countermanded. "This one's got a pack—might be sump'n in it we can use!"

"Please!" Lady Elizabeth pleaded weakly. "You're getting my chest—that should be more than enough for you brigands!"

"Don't tell me what's enough, Lady High-N-Mighty!" Gaptooth growled causing the dainty lady to swoon, then gestured to the yeoman. "You best open the pack an' show us yer goods, or we'll just start carving up some noble flesh..." The men closest to Cedric, the driver and Eleanor chortled appreciatively and made a show of their blades. Eleanor and the driver clung to each other in terror. Sir Cedric met the gaze of the yeoman's eyes—instilling the lad with nerves of steel, and briefly pantomiming for the commoner to provide some sort of diversion. Lowering his eyes, the yeoman shrugged off his pack and knelt on the ground to open it up, reaching inside and pulling out something in his hand—which he immediately threw up into the air. The sunlight caught on shiny metal coins as they tumbled through the air and fell to the ground. All of the bandits except for Gaptooth and the thug at Lady Catherine's carriage immediately surged toward the obvious money.

"No, you fools!" roared Gaptooth, but the diversion had done its job: Cedric leaped forward to engage the other highwaymen, brigands falling like fresh-chopped kindling wood to the rise and fall of his manly blade.

The yeoman grabbed his abandoned staff and used it to strike the thug at Lady Elizabeth's carriage across the back of his knees, making the robber fall to the ground on his back. Cedric continued to hack his way through the bandits, body parts flying.

The driver jumped at Gaptooth, landing on the man's back and making him stagger about. Gaptooth managed to struggle away and slice at the driver's arm, who fell to the ground with a cry.

Cedric drove off first one and then another of the sword-wielding robbers stopping only long enough to chivalrously help Eleanor to a relatively safe hiding place, as well as produce his own handkerchief to use on the bleeding Dabney's arm. Gaptooth tried to bring his sword around in an arc to slice at the raven-maned noble, but the manly Sir Cedric was more than a match for him, dispatched in a mere stroke of the blade.

"Cedric! Dear Cedric—yon hard-working yeoman is being threatened!" Lady Elizabeth wailed, having sat up from her swoon. "Use your manly skills and save him!" Then she swooned again.

The stalwart knight saw that two remaining robbers advanced on the yeoman, wielding knives. Cedric found, to his horror, that his path to the game commoner's side was blocked by the bodies of the late highwaymen he'd killed, which meant that the noble Sir Cedric would never get to the yeoman in time.

Two things happened: first, Lady Elizabeth—who, apparently, revived from her swoon yet again, pitched her bottle of smelling salts out the window of the carriage, and thus clouted the knife-wielder closest to her across the back of his head. Down he went. However, overcome by the horror of it all, the lady swooned yet again. Second, the remaining knife-wielder thrust his blade at the yeoman, who fell to the ground in a swoon himself. This saved the less-than-clever commoner a nasty wound, but the foe was still free to deliver a coup-de-grace.

Bellowing a war cry that knocked birds from the trees, the manly Sir Cedric leaped over the pile of body parts, smiting the evil-doer with his sword, leaving him free to bask in the well-deserved appreciation of Eleanor, Lady Elizabeth and John-

**It was the** hearty hail of guffaws, chuckles and chortles that halted Cedric's recollection of events.

"What?" he asked, color in his cheeks. "That's exactly how it happened!" Armus slapped John—the "hard-working yeoman" from both versions of the tale—on the back as he roared with laughter.

"A thousand pardons, friend John," the large man said, struggling to hold back his mirth, "But you have to admit that you're not looking too effective in either of these tales." John gave a queasy smile and shrugged.

"Mine is the truth!" Eleanor insisted.

"No...mine is the truth!" Cedric grated.

"John," Sir Thomas asked him, "Would you give us your version of what happened..?" The yeoman's green eyes rounded and he shook his head, instead looking to Lady Elizabeth, as she sat by the side of Sir Thomas, pointing insistently her way. The lady's lips twitched.

"Very well, John." Lady Elizabeth said, inclining her head. "Mind you all—this is only from my point of view, so I doubt I'll have the...feminine acuity that Eleanor provided, nor the...ah...manly infusions given by Cedric, but here is my tale..."

**IT WAS A** noble's carriage that traveled quickly down the well-worn road between London and Covington Cross. The lone pedestrian hastily moved to one side as the conveyance, along with its two out-riders, trundled along past. He shifted his pack and continued walking. Meanwhile, the passenger of the vehicle engaged the riders in a conversation that was yelled over the sound of travel.

"I want to thank you two for escorting me to Covington Cross," Lady Elizabeth told the siblings flanking her carriage as they hastened from London to the castle the lady had just mentioned. Cedric Gray chortled.

"It's our pleasure." he said gallantly, projecting the air of a man of the world for all that he hadn't yet reached his eighteenth year of age.

"It's our self-preservation, you mean." his sister Eleanor corrected him with a twinkle in her eye. "Father's been an absolute bear these past two weeks...he's been roaring about the castle snapping at anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path."

"I was gone for but one month to visit my cousin!" Lady Elizabeth protested. "He couldn't last the final two weeks?" She laughed.

"Truth be told, m'lady," Cedric confessed, "Father started getting surly the very day you left—it's just been extremely hard to handle these past two weeks." The lady in the carriage laughed.

"It's good thing all our horses are fresh, then." Lady Elizabeth said with a smile. "All the quicker to get to Covington Cross and rescue everyone from that growling bear!" The Grays laughed. Dabney, the driver of the carriage, suddenly pulled on the reins.

"Whoa, there!" he called. "Tree's fell across the road." Cedric and Eleanor pulled their mounts to a stop as well. The siblings exchanged glances and dismounted.

"Odd..." Eleanor mused, "...the road was fine on the way to London...I don't recall seeing any trees that looked hazardous then."

"Sometimes the rotten ones look fine until they fall over. Let's just get the tree out of the way." Cedric suggested, walking over to it. Eleanor joined him, as did the carriage driver. Even as they all took hold of the fallen trunk, however, there was a voice that called out:

"Don't make a move fer yer weapons." They were suddenly surrounded by several coarse-looking individuals, armed with a variety of swords, knives and staves. "All's we want is yer valuables. Then we'll be off." Cedric's hand reached surreptitiously for his sword. Eleanor hissed at him:

_"Don't_—we're nowhere near Lady Elizabeth." The youngest Gray sibling glanced over at the carriage and glumly noted that Eleanor had a very big point: there were only about eight or nine of the bandits, and the three by the tree stood a good chance of fighting them off...but Lady Elizabeth was in her carriage a good twenty-five feet or so away, and over half the brigands were between the trio and her. Starting a fight now could likely get the lady injured...or, worse, taken hostage.

"I've a personal chest in my carriage." Lady Elizabeth said frostily. "You may take it and go." The speaker grinned, showing missing teeth.

"Thank 'ee, m'lady." he acknowledged, then gestured roughly to a colleague of his. The second man—a bearded fellow with brown hair—turned and moved closer to the carriage, while the speaker and five others held their weapons at the ready, eyeing Cedric, the driver and Eleanor.

"Give it over!" he ordered Lady Elizabeth, holding his hands up in anticipation. Just then there was another arrival. Eleanor recognized the pedestrian they had passed on the road earlier: he was a yeoman by appearance, wearing rough but clean clothing on his lean, wiry frame. His raven hair was slightly wavy and fell in a simple cut to the tops of his shoulders. His face was plain, lacking a square jaw or any like features that her brothers had, but his clear green eyes were certainly sharp and intelligent as they glanced around the scene before him. He wore a pack on his back and carried a long staff that he was using as a walking stick.

He stopped about five feet away from the thug who was waiting for Lady Catherine to hand him her lock box.

"Go on about yer business!" snapped the hooded bandit.

"No, wait up there!" Gaptooth countermanded. "This one's got a pack—might be sump'n in it we can use!"

"Oh, really!" Lady Elizabeth huffed. "You're getting my chest—that should be more than enough for you brigands!"

"Don't tell me what's enough, Lady High-N-Mighty!" Gaptooth growled, then gestured to the yeoman. "You best open the pack an' show us yer goods, or we'll just start carving up some noble flesh..." The men closest to Cedric, the driver and Eleanor chortled appreciatively and made a show of their blades. The Gray siblings met the gaze of the yeoman's eyes—he wasn't afraid, and he was clearly assessing the swords that Cedric and Eleanor were wearing. Then the yeoman dropped the staff from his right hand, shrugged off his pack and knelt on the ground to open it up, reaching inside and pulling out something in his hand—which he immediately threw up into the air. The sunlight caught on shiny metal coins as they tumbled through the air and fell to the ground. All of the bandits except for Gaptooth and the thug at Lady Catherine's carriage immediately surged toward the obvious money.

"No, you fools!" roared Gaptooth, but the diversion had done its job: Cedric, the driver and Eleanor leaped forward to engage the other highwaymen.

The yeoman grabbed his abandoned staff and used it to strike the thug at Lady Elizabeth's carriage across the back of his knees, making the robber fall to the ground on his back. Cedric drew his sword and had at the closest swordsman to him, feinting to the right and then disarming in a maneuver that looked like it took a bit more exertion than should have been required, but the varlet was disarmed and he ran off. Eleanor engaged one of the bandits closest to her as well, also succeeding in her attempt to rout him. The driver jumped at Gaptooth, landing on the man's back and making him stagger about. Gaptooth managed to struggle away and slice at the driver's arm, who fell to the ground with a cry.

Cedric drove off first one and then another of the sword-wielding robbers on his side of the road. Eleanor fought another couple of brigands, who also turned tail and ran. Gaptooth tried to bring his sword around in an arc to slice at the auburn-haired noble, but he suddenly yelped and crossed his eyes—Eleanor grinned because she looked down to see a staff that had been thrust between Gaptooth's legs from behind and then, obviously, sharply brought up. The move completely incapacitated Gaptooth and he fell to his knees, losing his sword.

The maneuver, however, also left the yeoman without a weapon, and the remaining two robbers advanced on him, wielding knives. Both Eleanor and Cedric hurried to aid the young man, but their movements were hampered, as they had to step over or around Gaptooth and the other thug on his back—the Grays would never get to the yeoman in time.

Two things happened: first, Lady Elizabeth—who, apparently, had gotten out of her carriage—lifted up the metal lock box she'd been retrieving for the highwaymen and clouted the knife-wielder closest to her across the back of his head. Down he went. Second, the remaining knife-wielder thrust his blade at the yeoman, who—although the knife hadn't come anywhere near him—immediately fell to the ground and then used his feet to sweep out the legs from under his attacker. Once the knife-wielder was down on ground, the yeoman leaped up and kicked away the knife. The robber on the ground glared up at his would-be victim, and both men noted each other: the robber taking measure of the jade green eyes in the plain face, and the yeoman memorizing the robber's brown glare as well as the misshapen left ear on the bandit's dark head.

"Dabney's been hurt!" Lady Elizabeth cried, rushing over to her faithful driver's side. Cedric, Eleanor and the yeoman moved to join them. As they did so, those bandits who hadn't run away took this opportunity to join their comrades.

"We have to get away from here before those bandits get others and try again." Cedric said.

"Let's move the tree, quick!" Eleanor proposed. The Gray siblings and the yeoman grabbed hold of the tree and moved it aside. Dabney, meanwhile, looked mournfully at the mistress who attended his gash.

"Sorry, m'lady..." the driver apologized, "I'm afraid 'e got me arm...drivin's out fer me now." Lady Elizabeth fixed a stern eye upon her faithful servant.

"Hush, now." she said severely. "You've nothing to apologize for." She looked to the yeoman. "You, there—can you handle driving the carriage?" The young man looked a bit startled but nodded. "Good—I'll take Dabney inside with me and you can drive us to Covington Cross." Again the yeoman looked a bit bemused, but then nodded agreement.

"By the way," Eleanor said, sheathing her sword, "I'm Eleanor Gray, this is my brother Cedric, this is the Lady Elizabeth Leland and this..." She and Cedric assisted the driver to his feet, "...is Dabney. What's your name?" The yeoman smiled.

"Je—" he started speaking, then looked a bit panicked. "J—J—J—" Cedric placed a hand on the flustered commoner's upper arm.

"Easy now..." he assured the newcomer, then turned to Eleanor, "...he sounds like he has the halting tongue...such people are often treated as half-wits, but they aren't. It's simply that his mouth can't properly speak." Cedric thought for a moment. "Starts with 'J'...John, then? Your name is John?" Instantly relieved, the yeoman nodded and smiled, showing even white teeth.

"How did you know about the halting tongue?" Eleanor asked as they assisted Dabney into the carriage.

"While I wasn't the Friar's best student," Cedric replied smugly, "I did retain information on a variety of subjects. That happened to be one of them."

John picked up Lady Elizabeth's lockbox and his pack, bringing over to the carriage as well and stowing them within. He did the same with his staff before climbing up on the carriage and gathering the reins.

"John?" Eleanor called, making the rangy youth turn to look at her. "Aren't you forgetting your coins? There looked to be at least ten pennies in what you tossed." John cocked an eyebrow at her with a skeptical sort of look on his face, then he shook his head. He waved his hand around to the surrounding woods and then beckoned from the trees to themselves, finishing up with a sort of shooing motion. The noble girl realized that the yeoman was saying that it would be best for them all to get away while the getting was good. The money wasn't as important as their lives.

"So, you're on your way to a job? You can replace your money?" Cedric asked. John shook his head, but insisted that they all leave, and so they got back to Covington Cross with all due haste, driving through the castle gates with a huge sense of relief.

John reined the horses to a stop and looked around the area with avid eyes and a nodding head as Cedric and Eleanor sprang from their horses, calling for someone to fetch the castle barber, as there had been an injury that needed tending. The commoner climbed down from the carriage and aided Dabney from the vehicle, leaving Cedric to hand out the Lady Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" the anxious voice of Sir Thomas Gray sounded across the courtyard and all the various workers that had been flocking to see the arrival immediately moved out of the way of the concerned nobleman as he rushed from within the castle out to her side. "Are you hurt? I heard that you're asking for the barber!" The dark-haired lady extended her hands to Sir Thomas.

"I'm fine, Thomas...see?" she assured him. He stepped forward and took those hands, holding them tightly. The barber, a man of middle years with thinning red hair, came over to where John was supporting Dabney and began a cursory inspection of the driver.

"Thank Heavens!" Sir Thomas declared. "Who needs the barber and why?"

"Dabney, my driver, was injured, Thomas." Lady Elizabeth explained, but then hesitated. Cedric and Eleanor were eager enough to fill him in, however.

"Father! It was so exciting! We were held up by bandits!" Cedric bubbled.

"They nearly robbed us, too, if it hadn't been for John's arrival." Eleanor added.

Sir Thomas, far from being excited, was absolutely aghast.

"What?" he demanded. "Who tried to rob you? And who is John?"

"They were a bunch of very common-looking brigands." Cedric explained, then clouted John on the shoulder. "And this is John—he came along and helped us out." The tall yeoman had a bashful sort of smile on his face, which was tinging a bit pink at the sudden attention.

"Father!"

"Father—we just heard the news!" Two more Grays came running up to the group, Armus and Richard, respectively.

"There was mention that the barber was needed—" Armus said, concern rife in his tone, "—I do hope nobody was seriously injured?"

"Nay, 'tis but a nick," the barber announced. "Come to me apartments, I'll bind it up." The barber took Dabney by the good arm and pulled him along to get treated. John readily let him, for the yeoman was standing and staring up at Armus with wide green eyes and mouth agape. Armus looked down at the young man, bemused by the reaction.

"Everyone, this is John—he helped me and Eleanor rout the bandits." Cedric announced, then pointed out each of the remaining members of his family. "John, this is my father, Sir Thomas...my older brother Richard...and I see you've already noticed my oldest brother...his name is Armus." Armus held out a large hand, which John eyed in surprise.

"I'd like to shake the hand of the man that aided my siblings in their time of need." he said softly but firmly. John blinked and then gave his hand over, shaking Armus' own in a firm grip.

"Come, let's all go inside and hear the entire tale at once." Sir Thomas bade, refusing to relinquish Lady Elizabeth's hands and drawing her into the castle proper as he spoke. Everyone followed, with Eleanor finding herself alongside Armus as they went.

"Not one for words, eh, Eleanor?" her brother asked, nodding towards the rangy yeoman.

"No, Armus...John has the halting tongue." she told him. "Cedric says John can't speak well because of it." The large man's eyebrows elevated.

"Ahh. I'll keep that in mind." he replied.

Once they had repaired to the hall, Eleanor and Cedric explained exactly what had happened...each from their own point of view.

**CHAPTER TWO-Teacher, Teacher**

SIR THOMAS LOOKED to each of the impromptu bards and then looked to the yeoman that had aided the ones he loved.

"I believe that I agree with your assessment, John." the lord of Covington Cross told him with a grin. "I declare that Lady Elizabeth's tale is the closest to the truth."

"But I didn't have _that _hard a time disarming that first bandit!" Cedric insisted. John looked at him skeptically. The young noble jumped to his feet, pulling his sword and beckoning John towards him. "No, no, now it's a point of pride—I know that I disarmed the man correctly...you were there, John...attack me the same way that bandit did so I can show them!" The yeoman shrugged and held out his empty hands, signifying that he had no sword.

"Use the one on your back." Cedric said peevishly. John looked startled, and then a troubled expression crossed his face.

"He probably thought the sword was still hidden by his backpack," Richard whispered to Armus, "But forgot that he'd removed the pack a while ago."

"There was much for him to think about." agreed Armus, turning his attention back to where John was reluctantly removing the sheathed weapon from his back. Then, drawing the sword from its sheath, he fell into a combat stance that seemed to Armus to be something that was different than the stance he normally had seen during his tenure in the Crusades. Cedric launched himself at his sparring partner.

"Now, see—I went and did this and this and—" The would-be knight swung his sword once, twice but on the third blow both Richard and Armus saw where Cedric was making a mistake...so did John, who summarily disarmed the boy, the point of his sword scant inches from Cedric's neck. The raven-maned commoner gave a brief flash of white teeth.

"Dead!" he declared. Cedric was flabberghasted.

"But...but...I _disarmed _the bandit!" he pointed out. John sheathed his sword.

"Lucky." the yeoman countered, then tied the sheath so that it was secured to his back once more. Armus and Richard snickered at Cedric, who frowned at them. The youngest Gray suddenly got an idea.

"John—please train me!" Cedric begged. The rangy commoner stared, wide-eyed, at the noble youth. "You told us you don't have a job...and you lost all that money on the road getting us here as quickly and safely as you could." Sir Thomas glanced at Lady Elizabeth.

" 'Tis true," she told Sir Thomas in a low voice, "It was quick but I know that he tossed at least ten pennies in the air. He insisted we get here before those brigands could return, however." Sir Thomas eyed the yeoman, who was still shaking his head at Cedric's pleadings. A dozen pennies were easy enough for nobles such as Sir Thomas or Lady Elizabeth to replace...but coinage like that was often the life savings of those of the yeoman class.

"John." Sir Thomas said firmly, getting the young man's attention. "I should like to offer you the position of trainer to my son Cedric. I heartily wish you would accept." The yeoman looked from Cedric to Sir Thomas and back, and then, Lady Elizabeth noted with dawning comprehension, to the table where Eleanor sat with her other brothers, leaning close to whisper something to Armus.

"W-Wakefield." John stuttered the name slightly. Sir Thomas thought a moment, then the name of one of his neighbors popped into his head.

"Sir Jasper Wakefield?" the lord of the manor asked. The commoner nodded his dark head. Sir Thomas shifted, frowning a bit.

"Sir Jasper died last year." the nobleman told John, who looked aghast.

"Oh...so you were on your way to see Sir Jasper, then?" Richard deduced out loud. "That's why you were on the road to Covington Cross...it's the road one must take in order to reach Wakefield Keep from London." The yeoman nodded, blinking and looking like he'd received a rather unexpected shock. He looked to Sir Thomas again.

"Wh-who now?" John forced from his mouth.

"Who's the lord of Wakefield Keep?" Sir Thomas clarified. The yeoman nodded. "Why, that would be Sir Rodney, wouldn't it?"

"Aye, Father," Armus agreed, "But...Sir Rodney hasn't yet returned from the war. I had heard that they were still seeking him to let him know about his father. His wife Miriam is looking after the keep for him." John looked pensive.

"This means you have nowhere to go, doesn't it?" Cedric said, startling the taller man from his reverie. John shrugged and then shook his head—no, he didn't have anywhere else to go. "Then stay here and train me...please!"

"It would be the logical choice to make." Sir Thomas pointed out. "I would be most pleased if you would agree to tutor my son in the art of remaining armed." Cedric flushed. John gave him an empathetic glance, and then bowed low and formally to Sir Thomas, who grinned.

"Excellent!" Sir Thomas said, standing and holding his hand out to Lady Elizabeth. "Now, my lady, there is an urgent matter for you to attend to...ah...abovestairs." The couple withdrew quickly.

"This is brilliant!" Cedric crowed, slapping John on the back and shoulder in his excitement. "I finally get to train with someone without an ulterior motive!" The yeoman gave him a puzzled look.

"Come over here and have something to eat." Eleanor invited the two young men. "We've been on the road for the past few hours...I'm starving."

"So am I!" Armus added, beckoning a serving maid to bring in the food. Cedric sat at the table, pulling John along with him.

"You're _always_ starving." Richard said, jabbing his older brother in the side with a finger. "It's a wonder you haven't cleared out the entire south storeroom with the breadth of _your_ appetite!" The Grays laughed.

"It's all muscle, brother!" Armus assured him, then thanked the pretty maid who bore over a platter with roasted chickens on it. Richard smiled at the girl and gave her bottom a friendly pat as well; John's eyebrows elevated as he noted the younger brother's action. "And you have no right to complain about my appetite, when you have one of your own!"

"Ah, but appeasing my appetite appeases many others." Richard quipped. The chuckles this double entendre elicited were interrupted by a distinct clearing of a throat. John cocked a stern eyebrow at the second son and then nodded emphatically towards Eleanor. The meaning was clear: some subjects were not to be discussed in front of a noble maiden.

"Oh, don't mind us, John," Cedric said, pushing a goblet of ale towards him, "Eleanor has been bleating on about being as good as any man—she can handle masculine humor." John frowned, then went on to make sure that Eleanor had what she needed to eat before breaking his own bread and having his meal. They'd barely finished eating when Cedric dragged the yeoman off for his first session in the tilting yard. None too soon for Eleanor who was beginning to get irritated that she was being treated like...a lady.

WITHIN HIS CHAMBERS, the lord of Covington Cross and the lady Elizabeth Leland lay together on his bed.

"There, now," Elizabeth purred as she leaned her head against his shoulder, "I do believe that I've managed to tame a bear with my own two hands." Thomas chuckled.

"You, my lady, may have me jumping through hoops." he admitted freely, tenderly kissing her temple. "I missed you. I'm so very glad you're back." As he was cradling her against him with his left arm, his right hand was slowly stroking the softness of her skin.

"I'm glad to be back, my love."

"What news of your cousin...Esther...?"

"Esme." Elizabeth corrected him. "Esme Fondulac. And she's doing well...exceptionally well, considering she's been widowed for only two months. She was entertaining all manner of noblemen while I was there."

"Entertaining?"

"Yes, well...receiving the local nobles who came to call after her husband passed away." Elizabeth temporized. "They were, practically all of them, male." Thomas glanced at her face.

"You mean, in your own polite way, that apparently your cousin Esme is already shopping about for a new spouse..?" he asked.

"Put that way..." Elizabeth replied, "...yes."

"Thank the Lord you're back here, then." Thomas said, pulling her closer to him. The dark-haired lady tilted her head.

"Oh? Why should my cousin's mores concern you?"

"Surely, my lady, you cannot be wholly unaware of your own attraction?" Thomas growled playfully. "The more men Esme had hanging about her manor, the more likely they would immediately see you as the true catch!"

"Oh, Thomas!" Elizabeth sighed with a smile and then giggled and gasped as her lover became proactive. "Ohhhhh..._Thomas!" _The lady found out that there was still more taming required of her.

CEDRIC GRAY WAS like a child with a new toy at Christmas...only it was April and the "plaything" in question was John Yeoman. Richard and Armus took themselves down to the tilting yard the day after John's arrival, intent on seeing the spectacle.

"I don't want you here." Cedric said with a pout. His older brothers grinned at him, planting themselves at a distance that allowed them to see all that would be happening.

"Too bad, brother." Richard taunted him with a grin. "You're the one on display, so you have no say in it."

"We won't laugh...much." Armus added, lounging atop the group of barrels he'd hopped up upon. John spared the older brothers a look that ended with his rolling his jade-colored eyes heavenward before beckoning to Cedric and handing the young man a wooden practice sword. It was clear that John wanted to gauge exactly what Cedric knew. The youngest Gray was eager to show off his skills, and gladly engaged the taller man in combat. This allowed the eldest brothers to critique their sibling.

"What? Are you engaging a foe or beating a carpet, Cedric?" Armus called. "I taught you better than that!"

"Perhaps he's hoping to confuse his opponent by disguising himself as a windmill?" Richard jibed. Cedric flushed, and went at John with another flurry of blows, which the trainer deflected handily.

"John certainly knows how to handle a sword." Armus commented to Richard, who nodded his tawny head.

"Cedric is atrocious, but you're right about John." the second son agreed. "I wonder where he picked up his technique? It's...not the usual that I've seen." Armus nodded, eyeing the commoner's stance—it seemed to the knight that John was holding his sword as though it were an extension of his arm, which it was...but the armed combat that Armus was most familiar with was a bit more formal—it was the very rare individual who looked as though the sword was a part of them. John was definitely at ease with the blade.

"I can't think where I've seen it before." Armus admitted. "Or even _if _I've seen it before." Even as the two knights were trying to puzzle out the technique John was using, Cedric was looking more and more like the novice to the martial arts that he was. Finally he threw down his wooden weapon in disgust.

"This is just not fair!" the raven-maned youth fumed. "You're taller, you have a longer reach and you're obviously more experienced! How am I supposed to overcome that?" John eyed the despondent youth, picked up Cedric's abandoned sword and went to where the other practice weapons were, rummaging through them.

"Shame on you, Cedric!" Richard chided. "Do you think battle conditions are always going to be fair? I doubt you'll find Saracens willing to forgo hacking you to pieces simply because they happen to be bigger than you are, or have a larger sword."

"I would have thought you'd have a been a bit more determined to reach your goal, Cedric." Armus told him, frowning. "You resisted our efforts to prepare you for life as a cleric with a lot of spirit, have you none left for your professed vocation?"

"I'd just like to see John fight against the same odds without ending up on _his _arse!" the would-be knight snapped. Armus opened his mouth to reply, but John was now standing in front of him, holding out the practice sword that Cedric had thrown down. The giant Gray noble looked at the weapon and then at John. It was obvious that the yeoman wanted to show Cedric that appearances could be deceptive, and that apparent disadvantages could actually help one win in combat.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, oddly reluctant to cooperate. Armus was taller and definitely outweighed the rangy John by several stone. The dark-haired man inclined his head. Armus took the weapon and went to the sparring site.

"Watch and learn." the eldest Gray brother said and took a combat stance, as did John. This is when Armus saw that John had the added disadvantage of having a short sword to the long one he was armed with. The blond man frowned, but John surged forward on the attack.

"See..?" Richard told Cedric. "John is attacking the way you have been fighting so far. He is smaller than Armus, as is his weapon...if he doesn't think about how he has to compensate for—" Even as Richard explained it, however, the inevitable happened: Armus overpowered John, sending the skinnier man backwards to the ground, disarmed.

"I told you there was no way to overcome the size difference!" Cedric said petulantly. His older brother rolled his eyes as Armus gave John a hand up. John scooped up the fallen short sword and took a battle-ready stance once more. The noble he was facing hesitated once more, but John didn't pause—he leaped to the attack.

Armus' old trainer would have been proud, for he was fending off the smaller man's blows without truly thinking about it...he was actually pulling his own blows so as not to possibly hurt the yeoman. John now frowned, then he smiled—and suddenly Armus was finding John a lot harder to hit.

"Now, however, John is using his size and maneuverability to his advantage," Richard pointed out, "Armus has size, reach and possibly even stamina on his side, but John has speed and agility...it's possible that he can beat Armus in a battle."

"Not if I can help it!" Armus, in spite of the fact that the demonstration was supposed to be showing how a smaller foe could best a larger opponent, found that his competitive instincts had been aroused and wasn't allowing the slender man an easy victory. The demonstration had segued into a rather intense fight that began to range around the tilting yard as opposed to staying within the intended combat area. Richard and Cedric both had to scuttle out of the way in order not to get bowled over by the combatants, and even the servants from the castle proper were beginning to drift over to watch.

Armus had been trying to hold back, not wishing to hurt John while allowing a simple demonstration of the principles of tailoring one's strengths and weaknesses to the battle at hand. However, John hadn't taken the easy out, instead deliberately invoking the noble's instincts for battle so that Armus was now, indeed, fighting in earnest. Eleanor came along to see what had the servants interested in the proceedings and saw her brother in combat with the slender yeoman.

The taller man pressed forward, using his height to its utmost advantage, but the commoner was able to deflect Armus' blade time and again. What was impressing the knight was that John was not doing anything obvious to indicate how he was fending off the attacks—John was literally waiting to very last second before each intended blow to do something specific to counter it.

The raven-maned commoner was also being economical in his movements—shifting only enough so that Armus would miss hitting him, even in the face of great, dramatic arcing swings of the practice blade. It was intriguing the knight even as it was frustrating him.

It was that frustration that prompted Armus to use his head—literally. The larger man followed up on a high arcing swing that had placed him close to his opponent with a head butt. Armus got an extreme closeup of a pair of startled jade green eyes as he smacked his forehead into John's.

There was an explosion of pain in both combatants' heads, but the rangy yeoman went down like a stone. Richard clapped, laughing.

"That certainly took you long enough, Armus!" the second son said jokingly.

"This is not a maneuver I'd recommend without wearing a helmet, however." Armus admitted, rubbing his aching forehead. He wasn't paying attention to the man on the ground, however, and John immediately whipped his leg around, sweeping it forcibly at the back of the knight's knees and making Armus fall backwards. The eldest Gray son gaped at the wooden short sword being held to his throat by the yeoman, who had rolled to his side and was more or less lounging on the ground beside him, head propped up on his free hand.

"Never...gloat." John said with a smile. Armus gaped for a moment, then roared with laughter.

"And _that_, little brother," the blond man admitted, sitting up with a grin, "Is _precisely _the way an outmatched opponent can best his foe—_always _look for the other man to slip up." John sat up, too, his hand going to the knot already forming in the middle of his forehead.

"Ow." the commoner commented succinctly, giving Armus a pointed look and then laughing himself. All of the spectators were laughing and applauding. Eleanor grew thoughtful—this was one of the few times she'd ever seen a non-family member hold his own against Armus at all...certainly the only commoner. She was starting to see the well-mannered yeoman in a new light right then.

_**CHAPTER THREE – Class Conscience**_

**THE GRAY FAMILY** was preparing for the annual visit by the Bishop, since it was the time of year that the church sent round its top officials to collect its tithes from the local nobles. Sir Thomas was being especially painstaking in the way Covington Cross was presenting itself, as Lady Elizabeth was scheduled to be there to give her tithes to the Bishop as well.

Cedric was sparring with John in the tilting yard. The workout was strenuous, but, in the end, John smiled and clapped the young noble on the shoulder. Cedric knew he was improving and couldn't wait to show his family that improvement. The yeoman chuckled as the younger man dragged him along in order to boast of his achievements.

The dark-haired Gray brother caught up to his siblings as the family assembled to greet the incoming carriage, which looked to belong to Lady Elizabeth. Indeed, the lady descended and gave Sir Thomas a rather strained smile as he greeted her.

"Thomas," Lady Elizabeth said, waving a hand at the still-open door to her carriage, "Allow me to present to you my cousin, Lady Esme Fondulac. Esme, this is Sir Thomas Gray." Out of the carriage came a lady...a tiny lady. She was, perhaps, about five feet tall, with hair the color of sunshine and eyes a sparkling blue...the utter essence of a dainty noblewoman. Her rosebud mouth smiled up at Sir Thomas as she held out her hand.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Thomas," she said breathlessly. "Elizabeth's words pale in comparison to your manly presence." The lord of Covington Cross was definitely flattered. His sons were all extremely interested in this living embodiment of female nobility, who was wearing an exquisitely tailored gown that had a remarkably low neckline...as did the underdress. Elizabeth and Eleanor exchanged knowing glances, and the older lady was surprised but relieved to see that John—hanging back from the company of nobles—was not gaping at the petite blonde but arching an eyebrow, as Lady Esme's simpering had expanded to include Armus, Richard and Cedric by her declaration that she would doubtless soon find herself swooning in the presence of "unmitigated masculine nobility."

_'Common sense in a commoner.' _Lady Elizabeth thought to herself, and her already-high estimation of the man ramped up a few notches. The noblewoman turned her attention back to what Esme was saying, noting that her cousin had given Eleanor only the barest of courtesies.

"...could not, in all good conscience, stay at my manor house," the blonde explained her presence in England. "So, rather than invite gossip, I took myself off to my dear cousin Elizabeth's...and here I am!"

"Well, you simply must be my guest for the next few days," Sir Thomas offered gallantly. "Our Bishop is visiting in order to collect tithes, and since the Lady Elizabeth is to be here, then so must you!" Esme fluttered her lashes at the man, causing both Elizabeth and Eleanor to roll their eyes.

"Only if you insist, Sir Thomas," the petite lady said demurely. John coughed. Esme's dainty blue eyes glanced over at the one man not gazing eagerly at her and grew canny. "Who is this? Another son?"

"Nay, m'lady," Armus said, indicating the commoner, "This is John Yeoman. He's a friend and Cedric's weapons trainer." Upon hearing the word "yeoman", the lady's interest dropped.

"Well, I'm simply parched after the journey here," Esme turned to Sir Thomas and held out her hand. "Would that I had a goblet of wine to revive me..?" The lord of the castle hastily lifted his forearm and escorted the rather imperious noble into the castle interior. For a moment, the other nobles were at a loss as to how to react to Esme's snub of John—while it was true that John wasn't noble, introductions were supposed to at least be acknowledged. The yeoman shrugged and snapped his fingers, rolling his jade eyes before grinning. Armus returned the grin and then held out his arm to Lady Elizabeth, who placed her hand upon it and allowed herself to be escorted into the castle. Richard and Cedric hurried after them, leaving John and Eleanor to bring up the rear.

Eleanor noticed that John was frowning. Then he turned to Eleanor and offered her his own arm. The auburn-haired young lady stared at him for a moment, then reluctantly placed her hand on his forearm. There was an odd sort of warm feeling that spread around inside her as John walked her into the castle, but she didn't want to dwell on it.

"...AND THE EARL of Tevington has started crying the banns in spite of nobody having seen Lady Armitage in simply ages!" Esme was saying to the others as Eleanor was escorted into the great hall by John. "Quentin is quite the dashing noble—I turned him down when he asked for my hand in marriage, you see, and so it's apparent to all that he's rebounded and asked for Jennifer's hand in his disappointment."

"Oh?" Lady Elizabeth's question was dripping in sarcasm. "Are you sure that he didn't do so in an effort to gain control of the lucrative silk trading contacts Lady Armitage's family possesses? Quentin Miles is quite the sharp-minded trader, you know." Her cousin's irony was lost on Esme, however, who still had both of her delicate little hands clinging to one of Sir Thomas' forearms. Eleanor rolled her eyes.

"No, no—he was utterly devastated when I refused his suit!" Esme assured everyone at the table. John seated Eleanor at the table and took the empty spot between her and Armus. The eldest Gray brother leaned towards the yeoman and spoke in a low voice.

"Rather talkative for a lady who was, not a moment ago, 'simply parched from the journey here,' wouldn't you say, my friend?" Armus murmured. John's cough covered the snort of laughter at the observation. Esme, oblivious, rambled on.

"And I feared for my safety on the way here, you know!" she said, her long lashes fluttering. "The talk of the county is that the Bloodhawk is about, robbing the gentry by night. The reward on his head has been doubled just this week! I almost didn't come for fear of meeting him on the road."

"But, Lady Esme," Eleanor pointed out ingenuously, "If you had to travel by carriage, then you had practically no chance of meeting the Bloodhawk, as you can truly only travel during the daylight hours, and you just said that the Bloodhawk robs by night." Again the yeoman was struck with a sudden coughing fit, which the Gray brothers shared. Sir Thomas frowned, hoping there was nothing catching.

"A robber is a robber, my dear," Esme countered, unaware of just how ridiculous she was sounding. "They strike where they will. I'm only hoping that there are enough men at Covington Cross to keep us safe."

"Lady Esme," Sir Thomas offered chivalrously, "I doubt even the Bloodhawk would dare to breech the defenses of Covington Cross—however, should he be insane enough to try, I would take up the sword myself to defend you and Lady Elizabeth."

"Why, Sir Thomas, I feel _ever _so safe already!" Esme simpered, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Just then, a servant approached the table with a tray of goblets and a pitcher of wine, which was poured out for the people at the table. Lady Esme took a dainty sip from her goblet, favored Sir Thomas with a smile, then leaned towards him, affording the man an excellent view of her upper anatomy, now brilliantly showcased within the low-cut gown.

"Sir Thomas," the blonde noblewoman practically purred, "Is it a good idea to allow the common folk to believe that they may mingle with their betters..?" John, who had been about to drink from his goblet, stilled. Slowly the goblet returned to the table and the weapons trainer got to his feet. He bowed low to the noblewoman and to the rest of those at the table, then left the great hall. The Gray children were speechless. Lady Elizabeth, however, was not.

"Esme!" she gasped, outraged. Sir Thomas raised a hand.

"Now, there, Elizabeth..." the lord of the castle said mildly, "...the Lady Esme is correct on point—the yeoman wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. However, there was probably a more...tactful way of putting it." The patriarch of the family Gray eyed his impromptu guest.

"Oh, dear...I _do _hope that I didn't put the fellow out!" the lady declared, her eyelashes fluttering at Sir Thomas once more. "I only meant to stand on proper class decorum."

"The decorum is usually quite relaxed unless it's a formal dinner." Sir Thomas told her. "But it would do no harm to have protocol observed—if only to insure that my children truly recall what that is."

"I should think that would begin with having your female child dress as befits her gender and station, then." Esme pressed her point. Eleanor leaped to her feet.

"And _I _should think that _you _can bloody well—" she began to retort hotly, but her father's bellow cut her off.

"Eleanor!" Sir Thomas nodded at her. "Lady Esme is only voicing what I and Lady Elizabeth have been trying to get you to acknowledge—that a lady _should _be dressed as a lady."

"Fine!" Eleanor tossed her head. "If I may be excused, then, Father?" However, in spite of her questionably courteous request, the girl stormed out of the great hall before her father could respond. Armus stood next.

"I, too, would like to be excused, Father." he asked politely. Sir Thomas nodded. Richard and Cedric pushed away from the table, murmuring their excuses. The lord of Covington Cross waved them away, frowning after them.

"They'll come round to the proper way of thinking, Thomas." Esme assured him, sipping at her wine. "How could they not, as long as we show them by example?" Elizabeth had to grit her teeth and endure, even though her heart was longing to join wheresoever the others had gone to.

IN THE KITCHEN of the castle, John Yeoman accepted a cup of wine from Nellie, a buxom brunette who was telling him that her father worked in the castle as well—apparently her father was the barber for Covington Cross and the immediate village. The dark-haired man was nodding as Eleanor entered the area.

"John!" she exclaimed, going over to the table where he sat as the yeoman got to his feet. "No, no, sit down! I'm joining you for a drink...I couldn't possibly swallow a thing while I was with that...odious woman." The rangy man's eyebrows elevated, but he sat down when Eleanor took a seat. Soon they were joined by Armus, Richard and Cedric. John's jade eyes roved the bunch of young nobles now sharing wine with him in the kichen of the castle and his lips quirked in a half-smile.

"Why the look, John?" Armus asked him. The commoner considered for a moment, pursing his lips then carefully tapping Armus on one shoulder.

"Noble." he said firmly, before taking that same hand and placing it flat on his own chest. It took a moment in which John was obviously concentrating very hard on pronouncing the next word correctly. Finally he said: "Not." The tall blond knight thought for a moment.

"True." Armus conceded. "I and my siblings are noble...and you're not...but it wasn't for Lady Esme to make Father change the normal way of acting in the great hall. We don't dwell overmuch on the class distinctions here at Covington Cross...Father was correct when he said we only do that on formal occasions."

"She's hunting." Eleanor pronounced with a scowl. The men at the table looked at her.

"She's small enough to pass under Armus' outstretched arm without having to duck," Richard pointed out. "Hardly of the physical ideal to seek out wild game."

"She isn't out for wolves or bears, Richard!" his sister replied with a roll of her green eyes. John chuckled in his cup.

"S-sir Thomas," he stated firmly. Eleanor gave an emphatic nod.

"Yes," she agreed. "That Lady Esme came here to hunt Father. She's looking for a husband. I'll bet anything that she tipped her hand at her own castle and she's come scuttling here in an effort to try to get some poor sod to marry her."

"She's been nothing but charming and complimentary," Richard pointed out.

"You keep rounding on us for judging you with 'typical female behavior'..." Cedric added, "...and here you are, immediately jumping to the conclusion that Lady Esme is husband-hunting just because she's nice to us." Eleanor's face darkened. John leaned forward, pointing to each of the Gray brothers in turn.

"Nice," he said, his finger going to Armus, then to Richard, and on to Cedric. "Nice. Nice..." John then pointed to Eleanor and then himself. "Not. N-not." Armus sat back, thinking.

"You don't have to tell me that Eleanor's not nice," Richard replied jovially, "I already have the misfortune of knowing that." He and Cedric shared a grin. Armus, however, rubbed his chin.

"You mean that Lady Esme was nice...to all the eligible noble males," he deciphered. "But not to Eleanor nor to yourself." John's head bobbed. "Which is true—the lady barely acknowledged Eleanor when she first arrived, then drove John from the table and criticized Eleanor's clothes..."

"There? You see?" the Gray girl said hotly. "Father is not only being hunted by Lady Elizabeth, but by her cousin now as well! We've got to save him from them." John's expression was startled. Armus, too, was surprised to hear the theory stated so by his sister.

"Lady Elizabeth has been a friend of the family for years, Eleanor—"

"I don't care! We don't need a new mother!" With these words, Eleanor leaped to her feet once more to her feet and raced out of the kitchen, leaving behind a table full of confused and concerned men.

IT WAS PERHAPS a half-hour or so later when Eleanor heard the rustle of the bushes behind her. She had fled to a nearby meadow—her favorite place to go when she was feeling troubled or the need to think.

The young lady didn't turn to look, knowing it had to be one of her brothers—Armus most likely. He was the one who tried the hardest to put himself in the place of others. He was the likeliest one to come after her and try to persuade her that she was being childish and silly over nothing...but the fear of somebody coming along and replacing her mother Anne was a real one—at least to her—and Eleanor wasn't in the mood to justify her anxiety, not even to her loving brother.

"Go away!" she said fiercely—or, at least, that had been Eleanor's intention. Instead, her words came out as a tearful sort of hiss. There was warmth beside her as somebody sat down next to her. Eleanor turned her head to castigate her brother but saw, instead, that it was John. The tall, slender yeoman looked at her but said nothing. The auburn-haired girl could see concern in John's jade eyes, but no trace of censure nor judgment in them.

"I don't want anyone trying to replace Mother," Eleanor said suddenly. "If...if Mother can be replaced...then I can be, too." John's expression didn't change, but one arm came up around her shoulders and gave them a supportive squeeze. Other than this, however, the yeoman didn't do anything. He didn't try to tell Eleanor that she was being silly or that Eleanor was just plain wrong...things that her own brothers had done in the past. Eleanor sighed and put her head on John's shoulder, grateful for someone who didn't automatically dismiss her fears as being inconsequential.

They sat together for a very long time.

AS LADY ESME had stirred up Sir Thomas' consciousness of the class barrier, John was not at the table that evening with the members of the noble family. It was just the Grays, Lady Elizabeth and her undeniably beautiful cousin.

Sir Thomas found himself on a pendulum of sorts: going back and forth from being the complete focus of Lady Esme's attention to being completely bored at the absolute drivel that said lady insisted upon regaling those at the table with. He kept having to suddenly sit upright because he was nearly nodding off whenever Esme went on one of her frequent tangents (and there were many.)

Besides updating everyone on how Lord Quentin Miles had rebounded from her and the latest exploits of the Bloodhawk, Esme gossiped about several other nobles, the state of services rendered by the tradesmen of her castle, and the latest fashions to come to court in London. Sir Thomas found himself missing John—the man didn't say more than one or two words at a time and knew how to make them count, unlike the incessant, brainless chattering of Lady Esme. But he could do nothing about it now—Lady Esme had been correct in pointing out that nobles and common folk just did not mix...not traditionally, anyway.

The lord of Covington Cross found himself doing something most unusual for him: he actually called upon the Friar—the one non-noble that Lady Esme had agreed to allow be present for the meal—to speak on a topic.

"Wh-what topic would you wish to hear about, my lord..?" Friar Owen asked tentatively. Sir Thomas very nearly snapped "anything but frivolous gossip!" but, all too aware of the Friar's proclivities towards the driest of subjects, the knight considered for a moment and then asked about how the Bishop was doing and his upcoming visit.

"I have heard that the Bishop is in good health, praise the Lord," the Friar reported, "But I fear that I may have to disappoint him a bit on the collections from the villagers of Covington...you recall how the bandit raids of last year and the flooding of the western fields this past season has hit the local population? There simply wasn't a lot to spare for giving to the Church."

Sir Thomas frowned thoughtfully—the bandit raids that the Friar was referring to had been the work of Henry of Gault, who had led a band of hooded men in raids on villages throughout the lands that were supposed to be under the protection of Covington Cross. Indeed, those raids had made many of the villagers homeless for a time and the entire area was only just recovering from the damage done by them. Then the flooding of the lush western portion of the estate hadn't helped things at all. If it hadn't been for the fact that Sir Thomas had possessed the foresight to have saved as much as he had from the previous years of bounty, many of his people would have starved.

"Spare?" Lady Esme piped up, her brows drawing together. "But it says in the Holy Book that one is supposed to give to the Church before one thinks of themselves...I remember...eh...some parable in which Christ applauds an old woman for giving all her worldly goods to the Church. This is the way it's supposed to be for the common folk." All eyes riveted upon the wondrously beautiful woman who had just spoken. Esme, however, basked in the attention rather than perceiving it to be any kind of shock or outrage at the statement. Sir Thomas' cerulean gaze met Lady Elizabeth's steel blue eyes. The lady thought quickly.

"Esme," she said, "While that sort of...idea...is commendable, it simply isn't practical. If the serfs of the estate gave everything that they had to the Church all the time, they'd have nothing to live on." The blonde noblewoman's own rather vacuous stare didn't seem to comprehend what her cousin was telling her, so Elizabeth felt the need to continue her attempt to explain: "If the peasants have nothing, they'd begin to starve—"

"OH!" Lady Esme nodded, brightening. "I see now...if the peasants starved, then there'd be nobody to do the work at the castle!" Her cousin gave her a look that spoke volumes about how very completely the other woman had missed Lady Elizabeth's obvious point, but Esme was concentrating on her food once more. Suddenly everyone was giving their respective trenchers their attention, eating with a bit more speed in an effort to remove themselves from the lady's presence as soon as possible...Sir Thomas included.

He had been hoping that Lady Esme would have been a bit more empathetic and interesting company for the next few days, but Sir Thomas was wondering what he could do to speed the lady on her way—hopefully back to where she'd come from, just so that he could have Elizabeth to himself again as soon as possible.

JOHN YEOMAN WAS smiling as he left the kitchen, where he had eaten his meal with the other commoners of the castle. Nellie had given a rather amusing account of how a pig had wreaked havoc in the village and had eventually required almost half the population to come together and catch the too-clever creature. Everyone present had laughed and had a good time. John felt a bit sorry for the Grays and for Lady Elizabeth, as they all were trapped in the dining hall with Lady Esme, captive to her rather self-centric tales.

John was walking along towards his quarters when he was stopped by a comely servant girl. He didn't immediately recognize her face, but as she spoke, he realized that the young woman was the personal maid for Lady Esme.

"I been told yer name is John, aye?" the maid asked. The tall, rangy man nodded. "My mistress wishes t'leave a thankee note for the lord of the castle...would you take it to his room..?" John paused. The girl got a bit flustered and fumbled with a small pouch.

"M'lady said you can have what's in the pouch if you'd kindly take the letter." The maid held out the tiny cloth bag. John held out his hand, and the girl dropped it on his palm, then hastily pushed a piece of parchment into his hand as well.

"Thankee." The maid scurried away around the corner, leaving the weapons trainer holding the pouch and the note. The raven-maned man stood for a moment, then turned around, walking down the hall and opening the parchment as he went. It wasn't sealed, merely folded. It was not, as John suspected, a love note of any kind—the short missive clearly stated Lady Esme's gratitude that her cousin was acquainted with a man of Sir Thomas' caliber and that he had offered her sanctuary at Covington Cross.

All quite proper.

Except that the pouch, when John opened it, contained ten pieces of silver. His eyebrows elevated. This was a veritable fortune for a yeoman! And just to deliver a mere note of thanks that the lady could very well express to the lord of the castle's face her own self for free.

Something wasn't right about this.

John drew near to where Sir Thomas' chamber was located and put his hand on the door handle. He knocked and then opened the door, catching a flash of something at the corner of his eye—the maid, ducking back around the corner at the end of the hall. The yeoman thought a moment and then moued, going into the room as there was no answer. He took two steps inside then leaned back a bit to get a glimpse of that end of the hallway.

Lady Esme's personal maid peeked at the door John had stepped through, nodded, and then hastened away.

This was all very interesting...and something that John was determined to keep an eye upon.

_**CHAPTER FOUR – Secrets, Secrets Everywhere**_

DAWN HADN'T YET crept in through the window as Armus Gray blinked his eyes open. He'd gone to bed early—driven to it, one might say—thanks to the never-ending prattle of Lady Esme. The knight slept the night through and was feeling refreshed, albeit hungry. He grimaced and got up, hastily pulling on breeches, a tunic and his boots, mentally running through the list of available food in the storerooms. There were several ropes of sausages that had been sent to the castle just yesterday from one of the tenant farmers to the south—they would make an excellent breakfast.

Armus strolled into the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised to see John there already, nodding his thanks to Nellie when the serving maid placed a platter with sausages on it before the yeoman. Nellie spied the young noble approaching the table and dropped a curtsey, murmuring a greeting.

"Good morning to you, too, Nellie." Armus reciprocated. "I'll have what John's having, if it's not too much trouble."

"Aye, sir." the serving maid responded, scurrying off to fetch the food. John raised his cup to Armus, saluting the eldest Gray son, who grinned and sat down next to the yeoman.

"Those sausages smell great." Armus said, sniffing appreciatively. The raven-maned man nodded and pushed his platter closer to the out-sized knight, silently offering Armus the food that was already on the table. Armus wavered for a moment, but the seductive smell of the rich meat prompted him to bring out his eating dagger and spear a portion of one link.

"Well, all right..." the heir apparent to Covington Cross told John in droll tone, "...only because I'm claiming _droit de seigneur."_ The yeoman—who had been taking a draught of his ale—sprayed out the liquid and coughed, obviously laughing (and choking a bit) at the clever quip. Armus roared with laughter, nonetheless pounding poor John on his back to aid the fellow in breathing. Truly Armus hadn't thought that the commoner would actually realize the graphic pun that the young noble was making since the average serf didn't know the French term for "the lord's right." Obviously the weapons trainer not only knew the foreign language, but also appreciated the veiled—if bawdy—comparison between the sausage and male anatomy. John shifted on the bench, arching an eyebrow at the young noble.

"Don't look at me that way." Armus bade with a smarmy grin. _"These—"_ here he indicated the big fat link he had impaled on his eating dagger, "—are the only sausages you'll ever find _me _feasting upon." The yeoman chuckled, coughing occasionally and shaking his head.

Eleanor found them at the table eating said sausages when she came into the kitchen almost a half an hour later. John stood up upon her entry. Armus, however, continued finishing what was in his plate. Eleanor sat down, frowning at her older brother.

"Too busy with thirds—" she began to ask, only to see John shake his head and hold up all the fingers of his right hand and wiggle them, so she corrected herself, "—with _fifths_...to display some manners, brother dear?"

"Manners are displayed to impress the ladies." Armus opined, washing down his sausage with some ale. "However...does this mean that you finally want to be treated like a lady?" He arched a sandy eyebrow at her. Eleanor rolled her eyes. "I didn't think so." Nellie brought over a platter for Eleanor and then smiled warmly at John as she offered the weapons trainer more ale from the pitcher she was carrying. John pushed his tankard over to her and nodded with a smile.

"I'd like some ale, too." the Gray daughter said a bit sharply, feeling strangely piqued at the attention the yeoman was paying to brunette. The serving maid got Eleanor a tankard and poured out for the female noble, then scurried away to help the rest of the staff get breakfast ready for the lord of the castle and his guests.

"So I suppose you'll be trying to pound some battle sense into Cedric again today, John?" Eleanor asked airily, cutting into her sausage. The trainer bobbed his head. This was the moment that both Cedric and Richard made their appearances, Cedric yawning a greeting to all.

"I'll be trying to pound John back." Cedric said, striding over to the table and helping himself to sausage. "I've been getting better at it." Richard sat down, nodding to the others and eyeing John in particular.

"Is that so?" the second son asked. The yeoman considered and then nodded agreement.

"I'll be a knight in no time." Cedric predicted confidently as he beat Eleanor's grab for the last roll in the basket on the table. John's arched eyebrow went unnoticed. The weapons trainer sighed at the sad state of chivalry these days.

MEANWHILE, THE CONVERSATION at the exclusively noble table was a mixed bag for Sir Thomas. Lady Esme was wonderfully witty and flattering to him, but she would also begin her insensitive observations on how the world in general just wasn't doing enough to accommodate her.

"And you're certain we'll all be safe from this Bloodhawk fellow?" she was asking for the fourth time. "His string of robberies have stretched from London to this area for the past almost two months, you know."

"Yes, Lady Esme," the lord of Covington Cross assured his guest...again, "Even if my own men weren't up to the task of protecting us, I have hired on extra guards in anticipation of the Bishop's visit." Thomas saw the expression on Elizabeth's face tighten a bit—the extra guards had turned into a point of contention between himself and his fair neighbor: Thomas had been swayed by Esme's concern to hire the men in spite of Elizabeth's assertion that his own men-at-arms were just fine. He had only done so because Esme seemed to him to be so...so frail and helpless.

Elizabeth had given a decidedly unladylike snort and refused to talk about it anymore.

Thomas managed to survive breakfast and disappear to the office of the steward so that he could go over the accounts for the estate and plan exactly what he needed to tend to before the arrival of the bishop.

FRIAR OWEN'S MIND was definitely on the bishop's arrival, too—the amount the friar had collected from the serfs of Covington Cross was, in his opinion, actually rather a lot, considering all that they had gone through since the bishop's previous visit a little over a year ago. However, the last missive he'd gotten from Bishop Moore had hinted that he was expecting at least twice as much as the cleric of the castle had managed to collect. Friar Owen was not looking forward to the tongue-lashing that he was sure to receive once His Excellency was apprised of the shortfall. The monk frowned thoughtfully, since it was his particular attitude that the bishop was putting a bit too much emphasis on the collection of tithes from the common folk, rather than disbursing aid to the struggling population.

However, the opinions of a lowly friar were not paramount within the hierarchy of the Church. Friar Owen would just have to suffer through the inevitable derision of Bishop Moore when the time came. The brown-haired man sighed, then started when an unexpected knock upon his door sounded. He hastened to open the portal, and saw John Yeoman standing there.

"Good day, John," the holy man greeted politely. "May I help you?" The taller man nodded.

"C-confession..?" John asked.

"You wish to make confession?" the friar asked. John nodded. "It isn't my regularly scheduled day to do so, but please come in. I'll be happy to aid you." The accommodating man of the cloth moved back and smilingly waved the yeoman into the room. Even as John crossed the threshold, one of the servants hurried to Friar Owen's door.

"Friar!" the man hailed him. "There's been a carriage sighted! 'Tis the bishop approachin'!"

"The bishop! Already?" the friar gasped, immediately flustered. He turned to John. "I'm sorry, my son—but I must greet His Excellency. Please come to me later." With this the humble man hastened from the room, leaving the rangy commoner to look after him, sigh and then follow at a slower pace.

Practically the entire castle was assembled when Bishop Moore's carriage pulled into the courtyard. The religious officiant descended from the vehicle, holding out his hand for homage from the lord of the castle.

"Welcome to Covington Cross, Your Excellency!" Friar Owen greeted after kissing the Bishop's ring. "I trust your trip here was uneventful?"

"Indeed, my dear brother," Bishop Moore said with a nod of his head, "I am happy to say that my journey here this year did not include a visit by any highwaymen, praise be to God." Sir Thomas grimaced at the memory of the Irish bandit who had played havoc with not only the security of his castle, but his daughter's heart. He mentally gave his own thanks to Providence that Eleanor had come to her senses about that blackguard. This year, however, both his castle and the Bishop would be safe, thanks to the extra guards he had been wise enough to hire.

The Grays escorted the Bishop into the castle where His Excellency would be spending the night before continuing on, unaware that a pair of eyes belonging to a clever highwayman followed the Bishop's progress, their owner smiling to himself in anticipation of the money he and his gang would be able to rob the cleric of after he left the safety of Covington Cross.

WITHIN THE CASTLE, the bishop was introduced to Lady Esme and reacquainted with Lady Elizabeth, and Sir Thomas was introduced to a whole new plateau of inane conversation. The bishop would lecture about chastity and piety, while Lady Esme went on and on about a woman's destiny to obey her husband and inspire religious obedience within her family. The captive lord of Covington Cross noted (with considerable envy) that his children had managed to disappear from the hall...no doubt to consort with the common folk of the castle and their more interesting lives...

THE GRAY SIBLINGS were watching Cedric's training progress. Even Richard was impressed with the improvement that Cedric was showing under John's tutelage.

"I just wish I could put my finger on the technique John is using." the second son said to Armus. "It really is quite interesting." His brother nodded a bit absently, concentrating on trying to figure out the same thing.

Eleanor watched, too, and found herself fascinated by the grace and power of John's attacks and defenses. She was arrested by the very way he looked: John had not the bulky musculature of either Armus nor Richard—in truth, his rather baggy tunic made it hard to see how well-developed his torso may have been—but the tunic clung to the sleek muscles of his arms, proving that they, at least, were well-defined. There was no denying that he was extremely adept at wielding the sword and staff, too.

What would it be like, the auburn-maned girl wondered, to remove that obscuring tunic...to be free to run her hands over the skin and muscles exposed to her touch? Would his skin be covered in hair that Eleanor could coyly comb her fingers through...or would it be smooth under her caresses, save for whatever battle scars he may—?

"Eleanor!" Richard's voice was a bit sharp as though he was impatient about something.

"What?" she snapped back at him, startled from her musings.

"I asked if you wanted to join us." her older brother repeated, eying her oddly when she stared uncomprehendingly at him. "We're going to the Magpie's Nest in the village...do you want to come along?" She blinked and then smiled.

"Ohhhh...why, of course I do." the noble girl agreed, then leaped to her feet smacked her hand in the middle of Richard's chest. "Last one to the stable buys the first round!" And off she ran, inspiring a hasty exodus consisting of Cedric, Armus and John.

Richard, however, stood for a moment as his emerald eyes narrowed in thought. It had taken him three attempts before Eleanor finally registered that he had been speaking to her, and all that while she'd been watching John with a rather peculiar look on her face. He followed the others as he turned his own thoughts over in his mind.

John was a nice enough fellow—probably should have been squired and become a man-at-arms for a noble family, given the man's talent for the martial arts...but he was still a commoner. Richard knew that Sir Thomas would be hard-pressed to allow his only daughter to attach herself to anyone of less-than-noble birth. Being friends was one thing—being married was another.

The brown-maned knight made his way to the stables, grimacing because not only did it appear to him that his little sister was headed down a road to heartache...but he was also now stuck with buying the first round for everyone at the pub.

AT THE MAGPIE'S Nest, there was a topic of conversation that was contained to one table in one corner from which all of the other patrons of the pub were excluded, especially the Gray party:

"So...when do we get rich, Rufus?" one of the men in the corner chortled. The man named Rufus casually gulped from his flagon while cuffing the speaker across one ear with his free hand.

"Shut yer mouth, Gull!" Rufus growled. "There may be an entire pub a'tween us an' 'em, but I'll not have ye spoutin' off while the Grays are here." Keeping his eyes on the nobles and their guest, Rufus added: "I'm expectin' word from our...inside source...about exactly when we can rob the bishop! 'Til then...if ye have to open yer mouth—fill it with sump'n to drink!"

The raucous laughter from the corner table was loud, but not enough to make any of the people at the Gray's table turn and look.

SINCE THE evening meal at the castle was also a strictly formal affair, John was not present at the meal. This time the Gray siblings were forced to attend, and none of them wanted to remain too long, as the topics of conversation were hijacked...that is...conducted...by Lady Esme and Bishop Moore.

John Yeoman peeked in at the diners in the hall and sighed in empathy at the expressions on the Gray family's faces: Cedric and Richard were having a secret food-fight to relieve their overwhelming boredom and Eleanor looked as though she were plotting to murder Lady Esme, as the woman was droning on and on about how the nobility was supposed to present sterling examples of morality to the underprivileged classes. Armus—who, as the eldest son, had the misfortune of being seated on Lady Esme's left—was looking quite green around the gills...he had only been able to choke down three helpings of his favorite mutton dish due to Bishop Moore's enthusiastic approval of Lady Esme's dissertations, especially when it came to the sanctity of the family unit.

The Bishop's entirely-too-long-winded opinion was that families were to be raised by responsible parents, who were to work together to ensure their children's continued devotion to Mother Church through attending masses, sending tithes, and, occasionally, admitting a child or two into the ranks of the clergy. That last point was said with a certain amount of rancor aimed at Cedric, who (John had found out via the castle gossip) was supposed to have joined the Church last year but had managed to avoid being sent to the monastery. John gave a wry chuckle. He could imagine nobody less suited to the life of a monk than Cedric Gray.

The yeoman moved away from the hall and went to go eat with the other commoners of the castle. He was glad of their company; the people who worked in and around Covington Cross were hard, honest workers who took pride in their surroundings and the lord they served, mostly thanks to Sir Thomas Gray's penchant for treating his serfs with fairness and respect, a commodity that too many estates didn't have, John had found. The dinner was filling and everyone in the common hall had a good time. The rangy weapons trainer exited the place with a smile and wondered if he dared attempt a rescue of the morbidly-bored Gray siblings from their dire circumstances dancing attendance on the bishop and Lady Esme.

He maneuvered around the perimeter corridors in order to try to get into a position from which only one of the Gray siblings could see him...this way he'd be able to catch their eye and aid them in an escaping from their current coma-inducing dilemma with some behind-the-scenes buffoonery. In the midst of slinking about the corridors, however, he came across an unusual sight: Demelza, Lady Esme's personal maid, furtively making her way towards the part of the castle that housed not the guests, but the family itself. John frowned and abandoned his rescue mission, opting instead to follow Demelza.

The personal maid journeyed all the way to the door of Sir Thomas Gray's bedroom, glancing up and down the hall before going inside. John practically dove for cover and thanked his lucky stars that he didn't end up knocking over a display of arms when he did so. When next he peeked out to see, Demelza was gone. The yeoman puzzled over the development and, while he was considering his options, Sir Thomas' door opened and Demelza stepped out and closed the door behind her. She glanced about again, this time slipping into her bodice a strangely-shaped...what _was _that, anyway? A bottle or phial of some kind..? Then she hurried away from the lord's chambers.

Something was afoot, and John meant to find out what it was. He hurried out of the castle, intending to visit the local apothecary. Being rather late in the evening didn't endear the gangly weapons trainer to the potion-maker, but John managed to spy a distinctive bottle on the man's shelf and inquire about it.

"Oh, that?" the apothecary said, peering at the phial that John was holding. "That's my last one—I made a special potion that can render a person unconscious...it aids in those cursed with sleeplessness, you know. Yes, m'Lady Esme is apparently stricken so...her own maid came to me just this morning and asked for it. However, the lady is of such delicate constitution that she doesn't wish to be rendered unconscious immediately...merely to become drowsy enough to drop off to sleep herself. I had to modify the potion to do just that."

The next visit John had to make was to the rooms of Lady Esme. Come hell or high water, he meant to have whatever plot was on the mind of Demelza, even if he had to wring her neck to do it! Damn those formal dinners—the Gray siblings would be willing and able partners in this investigation, but Lady Esme had laid the foundation for _noblesse oblige_ all too well. They'd be missed almost instantly.

John stalked up to the door of Lady Esme, but before he could knock, he heard voices within: Demelza was speaking to someone else...a man, to judge by the timbre of the other voice. The yeoman pressed his ear to the door to hear better.

"The potion's in place...now ye know what to do?" Delmelza asked.

"Aye." the man answered.

"Repeat it, then—m'lady needs to be certain that ye know what to do and when!"

"I wait until 'is Lordship goes to 'is room, then I fetch the Bishop an' tell 'im there's immoral goin's-on in the castle, an' then I takes the bishop to the room, where 'e'll find m'lady and Sir Thomas in bed together." the man's voice was a cross between bored and irritated.

"Good, good! Now, go, keep watch on his door—we have to time this just so, or m'lady will never get Sir Thomas to marry her."

John blinked. Dinner or no, the Grays had to be told about this! Even as he straightened up, however, there was a blinding pain to the back of his head and he crashed against the door, sliding to the floor in a senseless heap.

The door John had been listening at immediately wrenched open. Demelza stared at the man on the floor and the guard standing over him.

"What is this?" demanded the personal maid.

"Caught him listening at the door, miss." the guard said roughly, his brown eyes hard as he glared at the unconscious form on the floor.

Demelza thought quickly.

"He must be taken to the dungeon at once!" she said, mustering up an authoritative voice. "M'lady Esme will wish to speak to Sir Thomas about his behavior...in the morning."

"At once, miss." the guard agreed, tipping the helm that was on his head so that his misshapen left ear showed but briefly. "It will be a real _pleasure!"_

**_CHAPTER FIVE – Rescue Me_**

Armus felt a hard nudge in his left side and he immediately straightened up in his seat at the dinner table.

"Yes, yes, penitents..." he muttered, agreeing with the last subject Bishop Moore had been boring him to death with.

"No, o son and heir," Richard whispered in his ear, "The Bishop and Lady Esme are now on 'moral fortitude'!" Armus pierced his younger brother with an icy blue glare, but sighed.

"Thanks for rescuing me from drowning in the broth, though," the eldest said _sotto voce_ in recognition of the fact that he had been inches away from falling face-first into the bowl in front of him. Richard chewed on his bread and swallowed before answering.

"I did it out of self-preservation, brother," he cheerfully admitted, "Had you died, then _I_ would be the one expected to sit on the bishop's left." The sandy-maned noble looked around the hall. "However, speaking of rescues...John is overdue."

"John?" Armus echoed. "Lady Esme wouldn't have him here now—he isn't 'noble' enough for her."

"No...not to attend the dinner," Richard agreed, "But I put a flea in his ear to come round before the dinner ends on the pretext that there was a matter for us, as his sons, to go tend to...thus excusing us from suffering needlessly from the total drivel being generated by the bishop and the lady."

"Odd that John hasn't appeared yet, then, isn't it?" Armus said in a low voice, frowning.

"Very odd," Richard replied with a bit of a nod. "We both well know that John is intelligent enough to puzzle out what I required of him without my having to officially say it."

"Thus allowing you to tell Father that you never ordered anyone to fake a message to get you out of the formal dinner...clever, Richard, very clever," his older brother admitted. "However...it doesn't seem to have worked—John isn't here."

"Which worries me," Richard said, pausing in partaking of some more meat. "He's smart enough to know my meaning, brave enough to risk Father's wrath should we get caught and has that quality of mercy to know that remaining here overlong would kill us from the utter boredom of our esteemed company..."

"So why _isn't _John here?" Armus completed the question for his younger brother, a feeling of foreboding coming over him—one he couldn't completely attribute to being forced to endure yet another tale of "inspiration" being spun by the bishop. Thinking quickly, the eldest Gray sibling murmured an apology and then rammed his fist into Richard's belly. The maneuver took place out of sight, under the table, but the results were rather spectacular to say the least, as the second son had just barely swallowed some wine; Richard spewed wine and some partially-digested food in a very vivid spray.

"Richard! Richard!" cried Armus as he leaped to his feet and clamped a large hand to his brother's forehead. "By God, you're burning up! Didn't I tell you that you were taking your duty far too seriously? Now you've fallen ill!"

Richard's initial glare at his older brother promised a slow and painful death, but then he realized that this display—though painfully generated—was exactly what they needed to escape the tedious meal. He flagrantly choked and swooned, the wine cup in his hand splashing all over the front of Armus' newly tailored shirt. Armus suppressed a groan—a ruined shirt was a small price to pay to be able to act on the sinking feeling he was getting regarding the absence of John.

Quite naturally, Sir Thomas was on his feet, starting over to his sick son's side.

"No, no, Father!" Cedric now jumped to his feet. "You have guests to tend to—Armus and I will bear Richard over to the barber's...here we go!" The youngest son grabbed Richard's legs while Armus scooped Richard up beneath his armpits. They hustled their "sick" brother out of the chamber. Not to be outdone, Eleanor rose as well.

"I, too, must go tend to my fallen brother," she announced, scraping through her brain for some pretext and finally snapping one up: "I...I must play a soothing lute for him." So saying, the Gray daughter hurried from the site of the meal.

If Richard getting suddenly and rather spectacularly sick hadn't rung alarm bells for Sir Thomas Gray, then the fortuitous concern of Armus and Cedric working in concert would have. Eleanor's sudden proclivity for lute-playing was another transparent ploy to leave this damnable dinner. And, worst of all...

...Sir Thomas, as the host, was stuck with having to remain. However, Lady Elizabeth aimed a smile his way, and the whole thing was suddenly almost bearable.

THE GRAY SIBLINGS were now in a different part of Covington Cross. Both Armus and Cedric released Richard simultaneously, and the second son landed ignominiously on his backside.

"Your sustained concern for my well-being touches me, _brothers,"_ Richard retorted ironically. Eleanor gave him a hand up.

"What next?" she asked. "Shall I change into something more suitable for the Magpie's Nest..?"

"No, Eleanor," Armus said with a shake of his head. "If you want to change into something less formal, that would be well and good, but Richard and I are concerned about John."

"John?" Eleanor gasped, her blood running cold when she digested the eldest Gray brother's anxiety.

"Odd that he isn't here," Cedric pointed out. "He's usually quite on the spot whenever things like this happen..."

"That is exactly it, Cedric," Richard explained. "John is _supposed _to be here, engineering our freedom...he isn't, and he hasn't come to us now that we've done it ourselves. Armus and I get the distinct feeling that something isn't right."

"He could be busy with Nellie," Cedric pointed out with a grin. Eleanor smacked him on one shoulder. "OW! What was _that _for?"

"You know John wouldn't be with Nellie!" the young lady chided him angrily.

"Of _course _he would be!" the randy baby brother replied, oblivious to just how dangerous engaging in this line of argument with Eleanor was. "Nellie has really _big_—"

"Be that as it may—" Armus interrupted Cedric before he became a casualty of their sister's ire, "—John isn't here and I believe we ought to go make sure that he's all right."

The siblings went to the kitchen using a roundabout path. As much as Eleanor would rather have not come into contact with the buxom serving maid, Nellie was able to tell them about John's trip to the apothecary's...and back.

"Well, 'e came back just afore the meal started," she told them. "Lookin' real thoughtful, like. 'e went away towards the family wing, last I saw 'im." Nellie couldn't provide any more help than that, so the Gray children split up to search the castle: Eleanor went to the family's and guests' rooms, Richard checked with the guards of the castle, and Armus was accompanied by Cedric to search the servants' quarters as well as the public rooms of Covington Cross.

"Well...none of the sentries say they saw John exit the castle after coming back from his visit to the apothecary..." Richard said when he met back with the others.

"He isn't in any of our rooms," Eleanor added, "Nor in the bishop's, or Lady Esme's or Lady Elizabeth's."

"None of the servants seem to have seen him, either," Cedric reported. Armus nodded.

"And there' still no sign of him anywhere else in the castle," the eldest confirmed. "Now I'm _really_ starting to worry. This just isn't like him."

"Well, the only place we haven't looked is in the dungeon—" Eleanor pointed out hotly, then the same idea burst upon all four of them at the same time: look in the dungeon of the castle.

They hurried to the lower levels of Covington Cross, alert for any sign of the rangy young weapons trainer, but the place was empty. Armus rubbed the back of his head, out of inspiration and now completely convinced that something bad had happened.

"Do you hear..._something_..?" Cedric asked, tilting his head. Everyone else in the group strained their ears.

"I don't hear anyth—" Richard began to scoff.

"_I _hear it!" Eleanor hissed, waving a hand to get her older brother to shut up. She and Cedric concentrated on the sound.

"It's like a clank or a thud—" the young man clarified.

"It sounds like metal on stone," Eleanor said. "Very faint...but regular." She stamped out the beat she was barely hearing: click...a pause for three or four beats and then a click again. Cedric nodded. He and Eleanor tracked the sound to the furthest end of the dungeon, to an old room that had a table and two chairs arranged on the rug in the center of the room, all of them rather worn. However, once they were all inside the room, they heard the sound.

"It's coming from under the floor," Richard verified.

_"__Under _the floor?" Cedric gasped. "But...the floor is solid stone down here!" Armus considered the statement and then shook his head.

"No...not in _this _room," he told them, then directed his siblings to help him move the table, chairs and rug. "Father told me that this room had been built by one of our more...bloodthirsty ancestors, who had a secret pit dug for himself—he tended to drop enemies of his into it so that they were never heard from again...ah, ha!"

Upon removing the rug, there was a large piece of the floor—approximately three feet square—that was clearly seamed, and it sported a large metal ring in it that could be folded flat into the recessed space in the square. Armus unfolded the ring and gave the whole thing an almighty yank, dislodging the stone cover and revealing the pit below. The Grays peered down into the dank space.

"A-about...time..." croaked the dirt-streaked but smiling face of John Yeoman, who was holding his eating dagger with one of his bootlaces tied to it—the device that allowed him to tap on the stones above his head without losing the dagger in the utter darkness of the sealed pit he'd been trapped in.

AFTER HAULING THE man out and locating a room with writing materials, (and allowing him to re-lace his boot,) John quickly scribbled what had happened to him and what he had uncovered:

Investigating the strange behavior of Lady Esme's maid as well as what was in the bottle that he'd seen the maid secret on her person, John deduced that Lady Esme was taking matters into her hands this night in order to embarrass Sir Thomas into offering for her.

It was a fiendishly simple plot: once Sir Thomas was in his room, he was quite likely to drink from his personal supply of drink that was kept in his room. The drug was to dull his senses but not knock him out completely. All Lady Esme had to do was slip into his bed chamber while her maid got the bishop and led the pious man to discover the couple "in the act." Being a bishop, of course, he would insist on the two single nobles to do the moral thing and get married. Sir Thomas would be unable to refuse...and Lady Esme would get a rich husband.

"That witch!" Eleanor fumed.

"We can't let that happen, Armus," Richard said succinctly. Armus nodded agreement to his brother's sentiment.

"True, we cannot."

"We have to stop her!" Cedric was all for racing off and confronting the selfish woman, but Armus snagged him by the elbow and held him in place.

"Yes...but if we do that now, she'll only come up with something else that we may not be able to counter," the eldest Gray brother pointed out.

"Proof?" John piped up, looking at Armus with intent jade eyes as he pointed to himself.

"Yes, you'd be able to tell Father about the plot," the knight conceded, "But I'm sure that Lady Esme would simply turn it into a contest of her word against yours, and we all know how a noble's word is supposedly better than a commoner's..." The siblings all groaned, rolled their collective eyes and muttered.

"Leaving us with the original problem, then," Richard said. "How to thwart this plan and keep Lady Esme from hatching any other plots to become our new step-mother."

"Too bad there isn't any way to discredit Lady Esme," Cedric sighed. "If her word was no good, then we could have John explain everything." John sighed, too, nodding forlornly. Armus and Eleanor frowned, wracking their brains. However, Richard peered sharply at Cedric, a crafty smile crossing his face.

"Discredit Lady Esme!" he echoed, then slapped his baby brother on the back. "Cedric, you're brilliant!" Cedric smiled smugly.

"Of course I am!" he agreed, then added: _"How _am I brilliant?"

"Armus," Richard addressed his older brother, "Bishop Moore is likely to believe the word of a lady over a commoner...but is he still likely to believe the word of a fallen woman that he, himself, witnesses in bed with a man..?" Armus mulled it over.

"From what I've heard him say, Richard," he replied, "No...he would not. Entirely too pompous. But he'd still insist on Father marrying the lady because it would be the moral thing to do."

"Ahhhh...but what if the man in bed _wasn't _Father, but someone else?" the sandy-maned young noble proposed. Armus' furrowed brow cleared, and even John began to smile.

"Richard! You're right!" the oldest Gray son agreed with a grin. "Cedric's brilliant!" The youth who was the topic of the conversation was still glancing from one brother to another, confused about exactly what it was that had made him so brilliant, and wanting desperately to know so as to be able to impress with his intellectual prowess the next young maiden he met.

"_How _am I brilliant?" he demanded, a slightly whiny tone creeping into his voice.

"Wait a minute," Eleanor interrupted, finally having discerned her brother's plan. "While even I have to admit that it _is _bloody brilliant, we can't have any of you get caught in bed with Lady Esme—"

"Is _that _how brilliant I am?" Cedric gasped, horrified. "I can't be in bed with Lady Esme...she's _old!" _The rest of his siblings groaned and John rolled his eyes, but Eleanor completed her observation.

"None of you can be in bed with her, either, because a Gray _son _is almost as good as the Gray _father _in terms of marriage." The yeoman nodded agreement with this statement.

"That's true, too," Armus admitted again, then put an arm around John's shoulders. "But...we aren't all _Gray _men...are we...?" Now it was the commoner's turn to eye the Gray siblings with suspicion, which segued into long-suffering realization. John wondered if it wasn't too late to throw himself back into the pit he'd been rescued from.

"Quickly now," Armus ordered, "It's nearly time for everyone to retire—if we don't act, we'll be saddled with the step-mother from hell!"

John Yeoman was dragged along as they went, muttering: _"Brilliant!"_

_**CHAPTER SIX – Strange Bedfellows**_

After being abandoned at dinner by all of his children, Sir Thomas now found himself positively inundated by their focused attention right after he announced that he would be retiring for the evening.

Armus insisted on personally making him a bedtime snack. Richard (who'd had a miraculous recovery) suddenly spouted all the prurient details of a supply contract that the estate had signed with a local lord. Cedric just _had _to give him a blow-by-blow demonstration of what that morning's training with John Yeoman had included. The last straw was when Eleanor wanted to show her father what she had accomplished with that lute—Sir Thomas could see the thing was riddled with crossbow-bolt-holes.

"That's it!" the lord of Covington Cross growled, slamming his hands down on the table and getting to his feet. "I am going to bed, and that is final!"

"One last round, then, Father..?" Armus proposed while Richard gave Eleanor and Cedric a pointed glance. The youngest two siblings left; Cedric racing to Father's bedroom while Eleanor hurried to Lady Elizabeth's, knocking in a quiet but persistent manner. Finally the dark-haired lady opened the door.

"Eleanor..?" the older woman gasped, surprised as the girl pushed her way into Elizabeth's bed chamber. "Is something wrong? Is your father all right?" The auburn-maned young noble turned and looked at Elizabeth as though seeing the brunette for the first time.

"Lady Elizabeth..." Eleanor said, then gave a sharp sigh, "...I don't have time to explain. Just let me say that...I must apologize for being so...horrible to you. I know now that you truly _do _love my father...and he needs your help tonight!"

Elizabeth Leland eyed the daughter of the man she loved, weighing the months of struggling with Eleanor to get simple basic respect from the girl against Elizabeth's own wish to regard Eleanor as another daughter.

"How can I help?" Elizabeth asked after a second or two. Eleanor grinned, relieved to have been correct that the older noblewoman was probably somebody worthy of loving Sir Thomas Gray.

Then she told Elizabeth what needed to be done.

THE DOOR TO Sir Thomas Gray's bedroom opened, and Cedric backed out of the room, bowing in a grand manner.

"Good night, _Father!"_ he called loudly. "I'll let Farnsworth know you need that decanter refilled! The sweetest of dreams...and God keep you while you rest, _Father!" _ The lad closed the door and strolled off down the hall towards his own room. When he opened his door, Cedric found his shirtfront seized and himself hauled so quickly within that his feet left the floor for a second or two.

Richard slammed the door shut as Cedric fairly dangled from the grip of Armus.

"What do you think you were doing?" Armus asked, setting his youngest brother back down on the ground again.

"I was saying good night to Father...realistically...like you said..." Cedric pointed out.

_"Realistically_ doesn't mean bellowing at the top of your lungs," Richard replied, stepping away from the door.

"And what was with that 'sweetest of dreams'..?" Eleanor queried with a snort. "We're lucky if you didn't tip the plan to that...that woman's minions with that kind of pap!" Cedric stuck his tongue out at his sister.

"Stop it now," Armus said sharply. "We need to be on our toes—I'm sure Lady Esme is going to make her move very soon." His sister frowned thoughtfully.

"You're sure there's no danger to John, now, is there?" she asked, not liking the idea that the brave yeoman could be adversely effected by their plan. Cedric clapped a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, no!" he assured her. "Nothing's going to happen to John—he hasn't had a chance to show me the basics of pole arms yet!"

WITHIN THE CHAMBER of Lady Esme, there was a flurry of activity.

Esme studied herself critically in the mirror. She was wearing her sheerest nightrail—the material of it so thin that one could definitely make out the contrast between her pale, porcelain skin and her aureoles. One could even discern the shimmering thatch below her waist. Her golden hair was loose and brushed to fall in sparkling soft waves to her hips. Her pink rosebud lips were pursed as though awaiting a lover's kiss. The only thing that spoiled the picture of provocative feminine beauty was the cold, calculating glitter in her luminous blue eyes.

"Perfect!" the noblewoman announced, then turned to her personal maid, Demelza. "You're sure everything is all set?"

"Aye, m'lady!" the skinny maid agreed, bobbing nervously as she helped Lady Esme on with her embroidered wrap. "Minton heard it himself—Sir Thomas drunk all the potion and is in his bedroom now." Lady Esme stalked to her door.

"Wait until you see me go into the room," she ordered her servant, "Then take Minton and fetch forth Bishop Moore." The noblewoman waited until Demelza opened the door before gliding gracefully out into the hall and straight to the door of Sir Thomas. She carefully opened the door and went inside. As soon as the door closed, Demelza ran to where Minton, Lady Esme's groom, had been hiding and observing the door, then the pair hurried off to get the bishop.

Inside the darkened chamber, Lady Esme waited until her eyes adjusted to only light source remaining in the room—the banked fire in the fireplace. The bedroom of Sir Thomas was huge—it did, after all, house the lord of the castle—and since the fire in the fireplace was merely a minimal one, the arc of illumination fell a bit short of the bed.

However, Lady Esme's calculating blue eyes narrowed, for there was a lean figure that had just stirred within the depths of the bed. She easily caught sight of it as the bed curtains were not drawn shut, but, rather, still hanging mostly open, although the head of the bed was shrouded in shadow.

No matter—her quarry had been sighted, and now the huntress prowled forward with alacrity. By this time tomorrow night, Esme would be the new Lady Gray!

The blond quickly shrugged off the wrap and let it fall to the ground as she moved to the bedside. Seizing the bedcovers, she lifted one edge and slid into the large, comfortable bed, immediately latching onto the warm body within.

"I couldn't resist your manly allure any longer, Sir Thomas!" Esme whispered, her hands seeking and sliding over the well-defined muscles of his bare torso. "Oh...my lord must work out very often with his sword—such a tight belly you have!" As her hands wandered, the noblewoman quested in the dark to find the lips of the man she was trapping, but he was moving this way and that, making it hard for her to keep her hands in contact with him as well as seal his fate with her kiss.

If she didn't know better, Lady Esme would almost believe that the man was trying to avoid contact with her. However, the potion must have been working, because he wasn't pulling away or trying to push her off.

"Don't be shy, my lord—I've seen the way you've been looking at me," Esme purred, sliding her hands up his chest. "Why, Thomas—I didn't realize you've been hurt—allow me to check your bandage—" It was hard for her to tell in the dark, but whether it was by accident or by design, the lady's mouth finally connected to the man's mouth and he gasped. Lady Esme swooped in for the kill, bringing her considerable skills in the art of love to that kiss, her tongue plunging deeply in a graphic demonstration of what would be coming next.

Was Sir Thomas...gagging?

The door to the bedchamber burst open, and into the room, bearing blazing lanterns, came Minton and Lady Esme's personal maid. Right behind them was a half-dressed Bishop Moore, who found himself propelled to the foot of the bed by the groom.

"—don't see why we should be so rude as to forgo knockin—" the cleric was saying but he halted both his speech and his progress into the room upon seeing Lady Esme sit straight up in the bed, looking fetchingly innocent in spite of being caught—as it were—in the act. The man beside her was practically hidden under the pile of covers she flung to one side, displaying herself in her next-to-nothing nightrail.

There was the thunder of running footsteps, and all of the Gray siblings were crowding into the chamber as well. Lady Esme warmed to her audience.

"Oh...oh sweet Jesu, what have we _done, _Thomas?" the noblewoman cried, bringing the back of her delicate left hand to her forehead.

"You mean you're in his bed and you still can't tell?" Richard asked.

"We've allowed our passion for each other to override our deeply ingrained morals!" Lady Esme still made it sound breathlessly contrite despite slaying the second Gray son with her eyes.

"In spite of boring us to death on the subject during dinner..." Armus commented wryly.

"Truly the flesh is weak!" declared the dishonored lady, making a note that her next plot would involve Armus and a myriad of sharp, pointy objects...a plot that expanded to include Cedric and Eleanor since they were both failing abysmally to contain their laughter.

"How can we possibly atone for this...this moment of recklessness, Thomas..?" The future Lady Gray eyed the obstreperous offspring of her husband-to-be, for they hadn't been at all properly horrified and/or forthcoming with demands that their father uphold the code of chivalry. "How? _How..?"_

"I'll tell you _how,_ Lady Esme!" the previously speechless bishop bellowed. "You and Sir Thomas are to be married at once—_at once,_ do you hear me? Before the news of your...your fall from grace can spread outside this bedroom!"

"But, Your Excellency, why should_ I _marry Lady Esme..?" Sir Thomas asked...from the door of his bedroom, where he stood (fully dressed) with Lady Elizabeth on his arm (also fully dressed). Lady Esme's big blue eyes got much bigger and rounder as well.

"Th-Thomas..?" the conniving noblewoman asked in a strangled voice. "Then...then..._who_ have I been...?" It was at this point that the covers were slowly pushed down to reveal the head and naked shoulders of John Yeoman, who gave the assembly at the foot of the bed a rather weak smile. He lifted his left hand to accompany that smile with a slight wave, a port wine birthmark briefly flexing on his upper arm.

_"You?"_ Lady Esme gasped in open horror. The commoner lifted one of his eyebrows and then aimed a pointed air-kiss her way. Nobody stopped her as she ran screaming from the room—they couldn't, as they were helpless with barely-suppressed laughter. Bishop Moore was, once again, speechless.

"Well...I'd say that we've had our entertainment for the evening!" Sir Thomas announced. "How about we all go to bed, now, hmm?"

"Good night, Sir Thomas!" the bishop said primly, turning and leaving. The Gray patriarch turned to the yeoman in his bed.

"I'd like to have my bed back now, if you'd be so kind..?" John flushed a bit, then pulled the covers that had been starting to creep down his chest a bit back up under his chin, his jade-colored eyes going to where his children stood—Armus, Eleanor, Richard and Cedric.

"Ahhhh...yes...ladies present and all," Sir Thomas said with a knowing nod. He pulled the bed curtains and hid the modest man from view, then turned to face Lady Elizabeth.

"So...this is why you insisted upon my accompanying you on an impromptu tour of the parapets?" he asked her pointedly. The noblewoman opened her mouth, but Eleanor was the one who answered.

"Lady Elizabeth truly didn't know what was going to happen, Father," the Gray daughter told him earnestly. "She simply agreed to keep you busy for your own...welfare."

"I am not going to ask how you unearthed Lady Esme's plans, as I'm sure it involves an amount of skulduggery that I am not so sure I'd approve," Sir Thomas said, then gave a chuckle. "However, it seems that I am, once more, indebted..." The curtains that surrounded the bed were swept back and John emerged from the bed, now completely dressed—including his boots.

"...to you, John Yeoman." The lord of Covington Cross finished his sentence then looked down at the shoes on the man's feet. "Good gracious, man—you mean to tell me that Lady Esme was so intent upon her plot that she didn't notice you were still wearing britches and boots?" The raven-maned weapons trainer shrugged.

"Truly, then, you've all saved me from a fate worse than death!" Sir Thomas said with a shudder, then he brusquely shooed everyone from his room—except for Lady Elizabeth, as he suddenly remembered a "matter most urgent" that he needed to discuss with her.

Meanwhile, the Gray siblings were elated to discover that Lady Esme had wasted no time at all—in spite of the lateness of the hour, she had dressed and left the castle with her personal maid and groom in tow.

"Good riddance!" Eleanor said with a fierce scowl. Armus and Richard continued to chuckle at the night's events, and Cedric became intensely curious.

"John," the young noble turned to the yeoman to address the question to the commoner, "What was it like...kissing Lady Esme?"

_"CEDRIC!"_ Three voices admonished the youngest Gray sibling, although the female voice sounded angry, while the other two voices of the trio were only mildly chiding. There was a disgusted look on John's face.

"Oh, ho, John," Richard said with a teasing smile. "So...the oh-so-demure lady turned into a wildcat once behind the bed curtains, eh?" The yeoman didn't respond verbally, but his cheeks flushed a deep pink.

"Hmmm...perhaps we should have had _you _in the bed with Lady Esme, Richard," Armus teased as well, "After all, we of 'the nobility' cannot expect a mere commoner to keep up with milady's...appetites, now, can we?" John's flush was encompassing his entire face now and it was definitely red, not just pink.

"I wouldn't have thought so—Lady Esme is so very _old!"_ Cedric added blithely, completely missing the narrowing of the weapons trainer's eyes. Eleanor, however, did not miss it...nor did she miss the man stop and pull something from the wall of the corridor they were passing through.

"Um...brothers...I don't think—" she attempted to warn them, but the oblivious triad of men continued their volley of innuendos.

"Oh, look..." Cedric said, his eyes coming to bear on the approaching form of John, "...what an odd time to start on pole arms training..!" Armus and Richard followed the direction of their baby brother's gaze, spying John charging at them with a halberd in his hands.

_"RUN!"_

Eleanor had to recover from the sudden bout of laughter that incapacitated her for a few moments—the vision of her three oh-so-masculine brothers (two of whom were knights) running down the corridor, shrieking, preventing her from following. However, she eventually raced after the enraged yeoman.

"John—dear John, please don't kill them!" Eleanor entreated, her plea somewhat spoiled by her laughing. "If...if you did...then I should be forced to have to sit next to the bishop at breakfast..!"

_**CHAPTER SEVEN – Bishop's Gambit**_

The morning meal was graced by the bishop's presence, who didn't seem to mind the Gray siblings' insistence that John be included at the table, as the only nobles in attendance of the meal were the immediate family and Lady Elizabeth. In spite of the less formal atmosphere, however, Bishop Moore still managed to bore everyone present. The painfully-long meal finally ended and the cleric went to his room to make sure all was packed and ready for him to continue his journey on to Baron Mullins' estate and beyond. The family gathered in the courtyard to see the bishop off.

"I thank you for the hospitality you have afforded me, Sir Thomas," Bishop Moore said staunchly. "And I am glad that you no longer have to bear the presence of Lady Esme, though I must insist that we all pray for her soul, as misguided with sins of the...ahem...flesh as she is."

"Be assured, your Excellency," Sir Thomas replied with a straight face, "That Lady Esme will be uppermost in mind when I pray God's will be done." Elizabeth looked away, her lips twitching. The bishop then turned to Friar Owen.

"Dear Brother Owen," he said, extending his hand for the good monk to kiss in obeisance, "You may bestow upon me the tithes from the common folk of the area." The friar looked a bit flustered, then drew in his breath.

"Ah!" interrupted John, who untied a pouch at his belt and then pressed it into the friar's hand. Friar Owen looked confused. John merely took the man's elbow and pushed the arm towards the bishop, who took the pouch from Owen's lax hand. Everyone else present was surprised when the bishop counted out silver coins.

"Very good, my son!" Bishop Moore beamed at the friar. "This is more than the amount Mother Church was expecting—and I had thought you wouldn't be able to come up with the minimum tithe, what with your telling me of the local circumstances and all." The bishop put the silver in the pouch, which then disappeared into his robes. "This only goes to show that the Good Lord does, indeed, provide for the faithful! However...what was this...yeoman doing with it?" The snobbish cleric arched an eyebrow at John.

"Why...eh...your Excellency..." Friar Owen floundered a moment and then brightened, "This man is a weapons trainer to young Cedric—who more qualified to keep such a...large amount of money safe until it was placed into your hands..?" John gave the bishop a thin-lipped smile and a nod.

"Ahhh...most wise, then!" Bishop Moore agreed, then gave John a calculated look. "Don't forget to see the good friar here, though, my son—you, too, have much to repent in view of last night." John's lips tightened, his jade-colored eyes flashing, but he merely bowed low and also kissed the ring on the hand that the church official extended to him. Bishop Moore said the rest of his farewells.

It was with considerable relief that Sir Thomas bid the bishop and the pair of men Covington Cross was providing as his escort a fond _adieu._ He then called for the extra men he'd hired to secure the castle, intending to pay them and send those he didn't wish to offer permanent employment on their way as well.

"I want to thank you, John, for not killing my brothers last night," Eleanor announced, taking the yeoman's arm as the siblings walked towards the tilting yard where John would soon be showing Cedric the basics of fighting with pole arms. "I am certainly grateful that I wasn't the one sitting next to the bishop this morning as he expounded on—what was the subject, Armus?" The young lady asked the question sweetly of her oldest brother, who grimaced, since he was the one who had been sitting next to the pontificating cleric at breakfast.

"The merits of self-sacrifice on behalf of Mother Church," the eldest Gray brother bemoaned, then glanced at the rangy yeoman. "John...where did you get a purse of silver?" The dark-haired man grinned.

"Lady Esme," John replied, mentally recalling how the noblewoman's personal maid, Demelza, had initially "bribed" him into delivering a note straight to Sir Thomas' room in order to find out exactly where the lord of Covington Cross slept. Armus deduced the way the weapons trainer got the money and shared the information with his siblings, causing them all to laugh at the realization that John had given up the silver gotten from Lady Esme's machinations.

"John..." Eleanor said, suddenly serious, "...that was a lot of money to just give up like that." The commoner shrugged.

"Friar needed it," he replied, then disengaged himself to go get a pole arm to start Cedric's training for the day, leaving Eleanor to look after him with a speculative expression on her face. She turned to Armus.

"Why isn't he a knight?" she asked her older brother, who could only shrug in answer.

"His conduct is inherently chivalrous," Armus had to agree. "Perhaps John just never had a knight to sponsor him..?"

"He would need that, given his common birth," Richard added. "But perhaps that is something we could remedy, brother...do you think?"

"I'll consider it," Armus said with a nod.

Cedric's introduction to pole arms was a matter of hilarity to his older brothers and sister. It wasn't easy hefting about a weapon longer than one was tall—as well as the fact that most such weapons tended to have metal blades of one type or another attached to the far end, dragging that end down to the ground when one's arms were quickly tired of attempting to hold it up.

"Don't you have something to do?" Cedric snapped at Richard and Armus, who were literally holding each other up as they laughed. Their amusement was spreading to the men that were passing by as they left with the pay that Sir Thomas gave them.

"No!" both brothers answered. The youngest Gray son rolled his eyes and turned back towards John, catching the eye of one of the temporary men-for-hire, who was chortling in a particularly snide...and familiar way. Cedric paused, then suddenly recalled why this one man seemed to be familiar.

"Cedric!" Eleanor gasped in shock when the jet-maned Gray whirled about once more, using the glaive he'd been practicing with knock one of the spectators down to the ground. Armus and Richard immediately sobered, both of them striding forward.

"Come now, brother," Richard chided, "You shouldn't attack someone simply because they find your clumsiness funny." Cedric, however, had the blade of the glaive pointed at the man's chest.

"John...Eleanor..." he said, "..._look _at him! Don't you recognize who it is?" Both the noblewoman and the yeoman drew near. Eleanor's eyebrows puckered, but it was John who gasped and, falling to one knee by the prone man, yanked off the helmet he was wearing—exposing the misshapen left ear.

"It's...one of the highwaymen who tried to rob Lady Elizabeth!" Eleanor announced not that she, too, had a clear look at the man's unobstructed face. The revealed robber sneered up at John.

"Oy...I see ye got out of the pit, more's the pity!" the man said scornfully. John's hands seized the criminal's shirtfront.

"No!" Armus barked, his objection halting whatever the yeoman may have had in mind. "We'll let the sheriff handle him. Perhaps he can find out who this villain's comrades-in-arms are."

"And where they might be now," Richard agreed with a nod. John's brows knit for a moment, then his face paled as he suddenly looked up at the Grays.

"The bishop!" he said, then leaped to his feet and started running. Armus blinked and then paled himself. Obviously this man had been hired to be a temporary guard during the bishop's visit, and had likely tipped his fellow brigands to when the cleric left...and what route he was taking.

"What?" Eleanor asked. Armus seized Richard's arm and started to follow John.

"Cedric," the eldest cried as they moved out, "You've captured one of the robber band—make sure he's delivered to the sheriff! Tell Father that we're going after the bishop, since it's likely the rest of the band are about to rob his carriage!"

"I'm going with you!" Eleanor addressed her older brothers.

"Why am I not surprised?" Richard said rhetorically.

Cedric marched his prisoner into the castle, while Armus, Richard and Eleanor caught up to the weapons master. John, it seemed, had run to get his sword and then to the stables, where he was removing one of the horses from its stall. The Grays made sure they were armed, too. Upon catching up with the commoner, Armus noted that the mount the man had in hand was not one of the more obviously well-bred ones, but it _was _one of the fastest in the stable.

"No saddle, John?" Armus cocked a surprised eyebrow at the yeoman.

"No time!" John replied, grabbing hold of the horse's mane and pulling himself onto the back of the animal. Armus turned to see that Richard and Eleanor were likewise mounting barebacked horses.

"Grab one and mount up, Armus!" Richard told him, then turned to John. "We know a shortcut to the road that goes towards Mullins' lands...hopefully we'll be in time before anything can happen to the bishop or our men." Armus was now on horseback himself.

"Let's ride!" he ordered, kicking his mount into motion. All four riders galloped towards the boundary between Covington Cross and the lands owned by Baron John Mullins.

THE QUARTET FROM Covington Cross rode up on the bishop's carriage just as it was pulling to a stop. One of the two escorts lay on the ground and the other was being pulled off his horse, but none of the bandits had hurt the driver of the carriage nor gotten to the bishop within—yet.

As she rode up, Eleanor pointed and fired her crossbow at one of the brigands approaching the carriage, smiling as she registered her bolt buried in the man's upper right chest. He went down with a grunt. The other brigands turned in time to see three more riders barreling down into their midst, and the melee was on.

Armus went to the aid of the escort who had been fighting even as three of the highwaymen dragged him from his horse, using his own mount to force away two of them while the escort defended himself against the one remaining.

Richard rode at a knot of four men, scattering them away from the carriage. He quickly dismounted and drew his sword, engaging in battle with those robbers closest to him.

John's eyes scanned the scene then shifted to take into account which of the highwaymen Eleanor, Armus and Richard's actions had stopped or driven off. There was still one of the brigands trying to get to the carriage—or, more specifically, the bishop inside. If he did, then he'd have a hostage and would force the Grays and their allies to stop fighting.

So John flung himself off his horse and onto the robber that had his hand on the carriage door, bringing both of them to the ground and losing his sword in the process—not a good thing, especially when the other man rolled to his feet and produced a a cheaply-made, slightly-pocked blade.

And a cheap sword versus no sword at all was _never _a good thing.

"Oh...it's ye again, is it?" the man with the sword eyed the weaponless yeoman, who recognized the bandit in turn from the gap in his teeth—it was the leader of the brigands. "Yer more trouble than ye're worth...so I'll just run ye through!" Gaptooth stepped forward, stabbing out with his blade...

...and getting Eleanor's crossbow thwacked upside his head.

"Thanks!" John grinned up at the young lady, who was still astride her horse.

"We're even now," Eleanor said, smiling herself. John picked up his sword, jerking his head to the carriage.

"Cover the bishop," he told her, then joined the melee, which was rapidly being turned with Richard and Armus wielding their swords against the highwaymen. They had all but defeated the villains when the sound of thundering hooves rumbled towards them: Cedric, leading Sir Thomas, the sheriff and a contingent from Covington Cross.

Armus checked on the original two escorts that had been sent with the bishop: the man that had been lying on the ground needed to see a physic to tend to the arrow in his shoulder, but he was quite likely to live; the other man had bruises and cuts, but was otherwise unhurt.

The bishop was effusive in his gratitude...and insisted that the contingent escort him to the Baron's castle. Sir Thomas was willing to let them go, ordering half their number to safeguard the cleric, while the other half would help the sheriff transport the highwaymen to the sheriff's jailhouse. Then the Grays, along with John, rode back towards Covington Cross.

"John..." Armus said as they rode along, "...have you ever given a thought to becoming a knight?" The rangy man glanced at the eldest Gray son and then glanced again when it was quite apparent that Armus was serious. John paused, then shook his head.

"Not possible," he replied firmly.

"It is...if I made you my squire," Armus countered. Again the weapons trainer paused, quite obviously turning over the possibilities in his head...however, Armus had the overwhelming feeling that he was going to shake his head again.

"Don't say anything now," the big, tall nobleman said. "Think about it for a bit." John's green eyes somberly regarded the eldest Gray brother.

"Think about it," he agreed finally. Armus sighed, relieved that the man wasn't outright rejecting the idea this time around.

"Fine! Think about it," Cedric said with a bit of a pout. "Just don't stop training me, though, please? I'm not lucky enough to have any knights just up and ask _me _to be a squire...I need all the help I can get."

John's hand went to his mouth, but his jade eyes danced with humor. The other Grays weren't as mindful of Cedric's feelings and laughed at the way the petulant youth had inadvertently expressed himself.

"Oh, ha ha!" he said sourly. "Just remember who it was that even recognized that brigand among us! None of _you _did—not even John, until I pointed the man out!" The yeoman nodded.

"True," he agreed.

"Cedric, my son," Sir Thomas assured the young noble, "You have definitely proven your dedication to the course of knighthood. John will remain your trainer...and I want to add my own conviction that you shall make a most excellent knight."

"Thank you, Father." The youngest son basked in his father's praise. Eleanor opened her mouth to puncture the swelled head, but John caught her eye and shook his own shaggy dark head. She thought for a moment and then decided to let Cedric have his moment...he _did_ deserve it, after all.

That...and, in spite of having evened up her obligation to John by saving his life earlier today—Eleanor still owed the yeoman for not killing her brothers and making her sit next to that fatally-boring bishop.

fin Episode 1


End file.
